


Afterword

by Incognito



Category: That '70s Show
Genre: Angst, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 89,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incognito/pseuds/Incognito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackie Burkhart had always believed that love conquered all. But what happens when love is taken away, when every single memory is erased from her past? How can she rebuild a life she cannot remember? And will Steven Hyde be content to be a mere footnote on a memoir that Jackie no longer cares to read? Post S8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**LOVE CONQUERED ALL** , or at least that’s what Jackie had once led herself to believe. Love was supposed to be immeasurable and immutable, invincible and insurmountable, and any other adjective she could think of that began with the letter ‘I’. Did Paris and Helen of Troy let anyone come between their love? Well, okay, there might have been the Greeks, and they may have started a war that brought about the destruction of an entire kingdom, but they followed their hearts and that’s all that mattered in the end.

Jackie Burkhart was certainly no Helen of Troy. She was vastly hotter than the ill-fated Trojan princess. She wasn’t some hairy, half-naked hemp-smoker from some bygone era. Jackie came from the era of shaved legs. She was beautiful and delicate, like a porcelain doll. She was her own princess in need of her Prince Paris. However, Princess Jackie’s current prince wasn’t shaping up to be a man willing to go to war for her. Their love certainly caused no rift between nations or launching of ships. No wooden horses would be sneaked past her impenetrable forces. No foundations would be razed to the ground over their kisses. No, theirs was a love that was all too... well, _ordinary_.

 _Creepy and unnatural_ —was that to be the pinnacle of her love life? Creepy and unnatural abandoned her without so much as batting an eyelash in her direction. Creepy and unnatural gave up too damn easily.

Life wasn’t fair. Jackie had learnt this the hard way these past few years. People left. People abandoned you. However, there was one consistency in Jackie’s life, one idea that never abandoned her, and that was the concept of love. For good or for bad, love would always be the focal point of her existence. It was her obsession, that unattainable dream.

Love was supposed to immeasurable, but even she wasn’t that self-deluded to believe that was entirely true. She could measure love quite well—with gifts and words of adoration and promises, promises of a future and a family together. The American dream. _The Jackie Burkhart dream_. Throw in a two carat princess cut diamond engagement ring, white doves and unicorns prancing on rainbows, and the dream would be complete.

Oh, yes, she could dream. She could delude herself with childish fantasies. If she were to really dig deep inside herself, she could also admit (though never aloud) that love was more than materialistic trophies and Hallmark greetings. However, selling out to commercial propaganda just happened to be Jackie’s bag, as it was countless others’, and she would never pretend to be any different.

Despite all of this, or maybe because of it, Jackie still measured love, in both quantity and quality. And if you were to catch her in a circle, she might just admit to favourably leaning towards quality, but vehemently deny the confession once sober. She was well aware that there were all sorts of love, like the love for a pet or designer shoes or your crazy grandmother who smelled like Ben-Gay and used to call you Kathy but gave you twenty dollars every birthday, along with some of the best hugs you’ll ever remember from your childhood.

And then there were the loves of your lives—the men with whom you so foolishly handed over your fragile heart. From her first love with Michael to the ego-boosting crush she shared with Fez, Jackie could count the worth and amount of love on the fingers of both her hands, tally the scores in her head. While both loves were sweet in their own way, they were sadly quantifiable.

Michael was the easiest one to size up. He was her ‘first’, the one who had first clumsily and unwittingly carved a niche in her heart. He was pretty and he used equally pretty words to get underneath her skirt. Fez was the opposite. He complimented her, like Michael, but he had spent a bit more time trying to open up her heart to him rather than her legs. Some loves, she had soon discovered, weren’t necessarily about control or passion or about heartache and forgetting how to breathe. Fez had made her feel good about herself when she had been at her lowest. He worshipped the very ground she walked on and, for a while, she believed that was exactly what she needed. It was exactly what she deserved: to be catered to and coddled, to never be challenged. However, it was a one-sided love affair that left a bitter taste on her tongue, if only for the fact that her heart refused to hold reasonable negotiations with her brain.

And then there was Steven Hyde, the rebel without a cause; always defying the rules and scoffing in the face of convention, subscribing to nonsensical conspiracy theories more frequently than she set her hair (which happened to be quite often). Here was a man who never did or said _exactly_ what she wanted but somehow opened her up to this totally different dimension of love that she couldn’t possibly define—not even if she had a thousand monkeys working at a thousand typewriters.

Steven Hyde was like biting into tinfoil. It was stupid idea and it hurt like hell to do, but it was interesting and fun and her curiosity got the best of her because she would bite into him regardless of the consequences—again and again. But more than that, he made her laugh, he made her cry, he made her scream. And instead of carving himself into a small spot of her heart, he had taken the entirety of it in his hands and seared his fingerprints into it, making it as much his own as it was hers.

It was the kind of love that could never be measured or articulated. It was unpredictable and dangerous, an all-consuming need that left her breathless and twisted inside. It still left her twisted inside. And so he would become the one with whom she would grade all others against, for better or for worse.

So now the one thing Jackie knew for certain was that love was _anything but_ immutable. Love changed things. It didn’t just change how you felt or how you regarded someone one day or the next. Love changed who you were. Love shifted your world to suit its needs. Sometimes it made you a better person; sometimes it made you worse. Sometimes all love did was strip away your identity until there was nothing left but an empty shell waiting to be discarded or rebuilt from the foundations up.

Sometimes love left you naked and exposed and clutching onto anything that would fill you with warmth again. But that was a dark and cruel path to travel down; one filled with brambles and thorns that sliced into your sides, carving twisted, unrecognisable patterns into vulnerable flesh. That kind of love sucked you down into a pit that you yourself dug with your own bare hands with the dirt still embedded underneath your fingernails.

Jackie had already dug her own pit of self-loathing. She had dug so deeply and so blindly that she could no longer see the sky above and was too numb from the effort to crawl out of the hole she had so willingly fell into. Or maybe she was thrown into it. Yes, maybe she had dug the pit, but someone else had tossed her in. Now she was wallowing in the mud, unable to climb out. But even at the bottom of her utmost despair, she was an optimist, a foolish romantic. All was not lost as long as there was love, she still reasoned, and she was right in a way.

Sure, love could conquer a lot of problems, as long as you figured out what love was truly for. And sometimes—just sometimes—if you were lucky enough, a sliver of light would find its way through the darkness and light a path of escape. And if you were strong enough, willing enough and had just enough luck on your side, you could follow that light out into freedom. Some day Jackie would eventually see that light...

* * *


	2. Ruby Tuesday

_14 February 1980_  
_Point Place, Wisconsin_  
_Fez and Jackie’s Apartment_

 

“ **JACKIE, W-WILL YOU** m-marry me?”

It had taken Fez three attempts to spit out the proposal, awkwardly thrusting the open blue velvet box into Jackie’s hands. The ring had a small diamond set in its centre, framed on either side by two even smaller stones. It wasn’t at all the kind of engagement ring she had been dreaming about since she was a little girl, but it was fashionable in its own charming sort of way.

She sat frozen on the edge of her bed, her mouth working soundlessly, fruitlessly trying to produce some sort of response. To her dismay, her lips twisted into a frown and she glanced down at her hands, idly fingering the velvet box. An agonising moment later, she looked up and met Fez’s gaze, her answer finally tumbling out with a shake of her chestnut curls,

“No.”

There was a pregnant pause, followed by audible swallowing. By him or her, she didn’t know.

_Wait—what do you mean, no? Hold on a second here. Maybe I didn’t hear that right._

“Uh, Jackie.” Fez ran his tongue along his upper lip, his eyes darting nervously about the room. “M-maybe you didn’t hear me.”

_Maybe is right! I must have gone temporarily deaf. That’s the only explanation._

“No, I heard you.” She ducked her head as she thrust the velvet box back into Fez’s hands. “My answer is still no.”

_Oh my God, WHAT is happening?_

Fez began to shift on his feet, his tongue doing a terrible job on his lips. “Ai! Is it because I am not down on bended knee?” He swallowed tightly, bending his body forward as though he were about to do just that. “Because I can do that!”

_Yes! It’s because you’re not proposing the proper way, down on bended knee! Obviously I want this to be perfect, but maybe I’m taking things a bit too far. I must have had Donna’s Carnation Instant Bitch this morning. I plead momentary insanity. Now, let’s proceed, my darling Fez._

“No, please don’t do that.” Her throat constricted as she swallowed. “It doesn’t matter if you get down on bended knee, Fez. I can’t marry you.”

_What? Why the hell not?_

“Why not?”

_That’s what I’m asking! God, why am I not listening to myself?_

“I’m just not ready for _that_ yet.” She twisted the soft cotton sheets between her fingers. “We’ve only been dating a month and a half, Fez. Don’t you, uh—don’t you think it’s a little too soon for marriage?”

_Too soon? Too soon! WHO the hell are you and WHY have you taken over my vocal chords?_

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he admitted with a sigh. Whether it was a sigh of relief or disappointment, she couldn’t tell. “I just assumed since it was Valentine’s Day that maybe—” he gestured to the blue velvet box in his hands “—this was what you wanted.”

_Yes! You guessed right, Fez! Now tell him he’s right, stupid brain! Or wait—if you’re the brain talking, what am I? Am I the brain? This is all so confusing. I wish I had taken psychology in school, or whatever -ology that has to do with the brain that makes people nutjobs for no reason._

_God! Just take the damn ring, already! This is what I’ve always wanted—security, the promise of a family, a nice shiny ring. Stop digging in your heels like a stupid Steven Hyde and just say yes!_

_Ugh! No, no, no! Now I’m thinking about Steven. Don’t you dare mention Steven to Fez or I’ll—I’ll... Dammit, I can’t threaten myself. I’m too beautiful!_

“God! Does everyone really think I’m _that_ wedding-hungry?” She threw up her hands. “If you remember correctly, _I_ turned down Michael’s marriage proposal.”

_Come to think of it—why did I say no, then?_

“Look, Fez.” Her expression had shifted from sombre to serious. “I don’t want men proposing to me because they think that’s what I want.” Fez opened his mouth to retort, but she quickly cut him off, “I’m only eighteen and I don’t even have a real job. I’m just—I’m just not ready for that kind of commitment yet.”

_WHO THE HELL is saying these things? You’re ready! I’m ready! Jackie Burkhart was born ready!_

“I understand.” He bowed his head, his chest sunken in defeat as he turned towards the door. “Maybe I should stay with Kelso for a while.”

Jackie’s eyes widened in panic and she jumped off the bed. “N-no, wait! I didn’t mean for us to break up or anything. I still want to be with you, Fez. I just want to take things slow this time.”

_Oh, so suddenly you’re no longer Miss Play-It-Cool? Can’t take the ring but can’t be alone either? Not so different from me, are you?_

Fez snapped the box lid shut and slipped it into his pocket. “I knew this would happen. I told myself not to get involved with you, but I did.” He glanced up at the ceiling, his dark brown eyes shining wetly in the fluorescent light. “Hyde was right: you make men stupid.”

She flinched violently, as if he had just struck her in the face. Why did he have to mention him, of all people?

“Fez, I didn’t say I wanted to break up. I’m just not ready for—”

“Jacqueline, enough!”

Fez was using his formal tone with her. It reminded her of arguments with her father, back when he actually gave a damn. She instinctively cowered and his eyes softened at her demure position.

“Please, Jackie, be honest for once in your life.” His jaw clenched stubbornly. “You do not wish to be with me.”

“Fez, I—no, it’s not like that. I mean we haven’t even, you know.” Her cheeks heated with colour. “I’m just not ready for marriage yet.”

“You were ready with Hyde.”

“That was different. I was young and—”

“It was less than a year ago.”

She brought a hand to her hair and began nervously twirling a lock around her finger. “With Steven, it was different. I needed some assurances.” She dropped her hand and huffed. “But this isn’t about me and Steven.”

“You’re right.” He curled his hands into fists and let them fall to his sides. “It’s about me and you, Jackie, and how there is no longer a me and you.”

Her body instantly froze. “Fez, don’t—”

“I told you I wouldn’t be sloppy thirds, Jackie.” The look on his face was that of sad resignation and her heart clenched painfully in her chest. She felt like she had just kicked a puppy.

“But you’re not, Fez!”

_That’s it. Reel him back in. Any man would be happy to be Jackie Burkhart’s sloppy whatevers, but don’t let him know you think that way. He might think you’re vainglorious or something... Wait, where did I learn that word?_

“Do you even want to get married?” she asked him.

_No! What are you doing? Don’t give him an out!_

“Honestly? I don’t know.” He let out a protracted sigh before shaking his head. “All I know it that I do not like seeing you unhappy.”

Small tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.

_Then why are you breaking up with me?_

“Then why are you with me?”

_What?_

“What?”

“I mean—” she cleared her throat and gestured lamely with her hands “—why are you breaking up with me if you don’t like seeing me unhappy?”

He offered her a sad smile. “My ego can only handle so much abuse.”

Jackie bowed her head and nodded slowly.

Fez tsked in half-part exasperation and half-part guilt. He took a step towards her and reached out to touch her hair, curling a lock around his finger. “I care for you, Jackie. I really do. You have this way of making the person you are with feel like he is the centre of your universe and it is a wonderful feeling. But—” He dropped her hair and sighed. “I have not felt that way in a long time... Maybe I never did.”

“Fez, no—” She jumped towards him, but he took a step back and held up his hand to stop her.

“I cannot.” His face was a mask of pain. “I cannot talk about this with you right now.”

_But what about me?_

“But what about us?” Her voice was small, not quite her own.

“It was a great seven weeks—until tonight,” he said, adding the last part gravely.

Jackie lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “So this is it, then?”

He nodded regrettably,

_Tell him how much you love him! Don’t let him break up with you! Ask him to stay!_

“Will you—will you still be my friend?” Her voice broke at the end, and his heart broke along with it. What she was worried about the most was losing his companionship.

He lifted her chin and gave her a look that said, ‘I am not Hyde’. “I will always be your friend, my dearest goddess, Jackie. Always.”

Her bottom lip trembled and she rushed into his arms. She hiccuped back a sob and clung tightly to her best friend like a lifeline. Then he kissed the top of her head and let go, walking away like every other man in Jackie Burkhart’s life.

* * *

 **SHE SAT MUTELY** at the foot of her bed, trying to draw air out of a room that had plenty just a few minutes ago and now seemed to have none. Fez was long gone, along with the voice that had taken over her—the voice that had decided to reject her one sure thing.

The apartment was eerily silent, save the old Ariston that sat on top of her dresser, quietly spinning vinyl. The needle ran smoothly for the most part, idly skipping the shallow grooves on the dated record as popping pockets of static signalled the ushering of a new track.

 

  _She would never say where she came from  
__Yesterday don’t matter if it’s gone_

  
She knew there was air going down her throat and into her lungs, breathing in and out again in a series of feverish gasps, but that didn’t change the feeling that she was alone, gasping at the foot of her bed while listening to the dulcet tones of The Rolling Stones croon about losing some girl or losing a dream. She wasn’t exactly sure. All she could agree with was the sentiment that life was unkind.

 

  _Lose your dreams  
__And you will lose your mind  
__Ain’t life unkind?_

  
Groaning, she took in another hitching gasp of air. She wasn’t crying. No, she had cried all her tears months ago. She hadn’t cried since she’d heard that Steven was going to stay with Sam—his wife. Back then the tears wouldn’t stop; back then the pain was far too great for her to worry about such minor matters of respiration or how there seemed to be no air in the room. The pain then had swallowed her whole before slicing into her like a knife, a blade twisting into an open wound so that it would never fully heal. The wound had never healed. Maybe that was why the room had so little air in it. Maybe she wasn’t just hiccuping back tearless sobs for Fez. Maybe she was still mourning for her previous love.

The realisation both startled and angered her, and she frowned. She didn’t want to think about _him_ again. She wasn’t going to let _him_ affect her when she was supposed to be grieving over the end of a relationship with another man. So she closed her eyes and willed herself to breathe again.

After a few attempts, her breathing finally began to ease a little, coming back to her in slow, even gasps. She turned to face the wall and her eyes connecting with her own, a reflection of herself in a gilded mirror. Her eyes widened at first and then narrowed, taking in her flushed and pretty face. She didn’t recognise herself at first. She always thought she was the type of beautiful who still looked pretty even when she cried, but her eyes were as expressionless as shards of glass twinkling on summer pavement.

_What’s happened to me? Who am I?_

The phone rang loudly and she jumped in her seat, her concentration shattered. A second ring, just as ear-splitting, and she was lunging across her bed and reaching towards her nightstand. Her hand found the phone in its cradle and picked it up before it rang a third time.

“Hello?” Her voice was shaky but clear.

What was it about answering the telephone when you were emotionally devastated? Did you subconsciously want the other person on the line to know you were upset? Were you seeking attention or only aggravating your own pain?

“Miss Jacqueline Burkhart?” It was a woman’s voice, unfamiliar but crisp and professional.

“Yes?” She cleared her throat. “Speaking.”

“Miss Burkhart, this is Gloria West calling on behalf of Mr Thompson, the general production manager for News 4 at WTMJ-TV.”

_Oh my God!_

“Mr Thompson received your audition tape and application letter the other day and he would like to have you come in for an interview for an internship position here at WTMJ-TV in Milwaukee, if you’re interested.”

“I—of course! I’d love to come in for an interview!”

She didn’t even bother to ask what type of internship it was—if it was paid, non-paid, production or broadcast. It didn’t matter. WTMJ-TV was the flagship station of the Journal Broadcast Group and an affiliate of NBC. If she could make a name for herself there, no matter how insignificant, then there was no telling how high up the corporate broadcasting ladder she could climb.

“That’s great, Miss Burkhart. Mr Thompson is away on business next week and is heavily scheduled all Friday afternoon.” There was a brief pause. “Is it possible for you to come in tomorrow morning at nine? I know it’s short notice—”

“I’ll be there! Bright and early!”

“Good.” Jackie could hear the woman smile on the other end of the line and she was faintly aware that she was smiling herself. “Just let me give you the directions to Radio City. Do you have a pen and paper handy, dear?”

Jackie was already skidding across to the other side of the room and riffling through her small desk drawer before pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. She went back to the phone and began scribbling down the address, making noises in the affirmative as Ms West gave her detailed directions.

Once off the phone, Jackie allowed herself a triumphant squeal of delight before dancing wildly about her bedroom. This was her first break in God only knew how long. Maybe this was the fresh start she needed. Maybe some of that lesbian-feminist self-awareness crap Donna had been jabbering on about all these years had finally got through. She didn’t need a man to make her feel good about herself; she just needed herself.

Suddenly Jackie didn’t feel like crying anymore. She could finally breathe again.

* * *

 **THE FLOORBOARDS CREAKED** as she walked down the stairs into the basement. She wasn’t sure why she was even here to begin with. Her hopes in telling Donna and Eric the good news were dashed when she remembered that it was Valentine’s Day and the two were out for dinner, as were the Formans.

It deflated her ego a bit knowing that she wouldn’t be celebrating the romantic holiday with her significant other. Fez was probably already in Chicago by now, hanging out with Michael (his one true love). There was really no reason for her to be here.

Lost in thought, she stood at the bottom of the landing and paused when she saw the back of Steven’s head. He sat slumped in his usual seat, a beer nestled in his hand as he casually watched whatever it was that was playing on the television. He didn’t even bother to glance back over his shoulder to acknowledge her presence.

Deliberately brushing past him, she sank down into the yellow sofa and slipped her hands into the pockets of her navy pea coat. It was too hot inside to wear a coat, but she kept it on anyway. She had decided to leave for Milwaukee that night and stay at a motel, which would allow her to be refreshed and ready for her early morning interview.

Her bags were already packed, stuffed in the back of the ugly blue Gremlin she had bought cheap last week. She really hoped no one at the station would assume the car was hers. If the interview went well, she figured she’d make a day trip out of it and go shopping. After her break-up with Fez, she could really do with a little shallow pick-me-up consumerism.

“Hey,” she said casually, stealing an innocent glance at her ex.

He was wearing one of his Led Zeppelin t-shits. She wasn’t sure which one as they all tended to bleed together in her mind. But the dirty, worn tee fit him perfectly, accentuating the broad span of his chest and the long, hard line of his stomach. If it wasn’t for the porn ’stache, she’d be drooling right now.

_Dammit, why the hell couldn’t he be ugly?_

Finally, he stirred, probably more so out of having felt her eyes on him than her formal greeting. He grunted his hello before setting down his beer and returning to his program. Then, as though suddenly realising who he had somewhat politely acknowledged, his entire body went rigid. Folding his muscled arms across his chest, he easily shifted back into Zen, his eyebrows slightly raised above his thin-framed aviators.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, directing a half-hearted glare in her direction.

“I came to see if Donna and Eric were here.”

“Well—” he shrugged, elbows pointing outwards “—as you can see, they’re not.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I figured that out on my own.”

“Really now?” He leaned forward, reaching across her knee to grab his beer from the table. “Good work, Columbo.”

His arm barely grazed her jeans when he settled back into his seat and she let out a short burst of air. She hadn’t even realised that she had been holding her breath until she expelled it. Feeling frustrated and slightly embarrassed, she turned and tried to inconspicuously inch away from him. Why had she sat so close in the first place?

He was leaning forward again, setting the beer back down on the table, and she closed her eyes, catching his scent. She was trying hard not to look at him or even think about him. With them being so close and alone together, she couldn’t help but remember how it had been that summer in the basement. How he always knew where to touch her, how his mouth would always find her lips, her jaw, her throat—any uncovered flesh. How his beard would tickle her skin or how his large hands would roam her body or delicately cup her cheeks. His fingers would tangle in her hair and hers would tangle in his and they’d kiss long, hot and languid, always desperate for more.

“What are you still doing here?”

She jumped slightly in her seat before recovering, summoning her pride. “I’m allowed to be here, _Hyde_.”

He stiffened slightly. It was a subtle movement, the way his shoulders lowered and titled back, the way his jaw worked like he was trying hard not to grind his teeth. It was almost like a facial tick. She felt a little smug about it. It was the small things that she noticed about him, minuscule details she had trained herself to watch and wait for.

Yeah, she still knew him.

“Well, I guess once your kind is officially invited in you can enter any time you like.” A cruel smirk curved on his lips before he blanked his expression completely and turned back to the television. “But I wouldn’t go around saying you’re _allowed_ to be here, Jackie.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve just worn out your welcome.”

“I’ve worn out _my_ welcome?” She snorted indelicately, mimicking his movements. “At least I’m not living rent-free in Mommy and Daddy’s basement while getting stoned and shit-faced twenty-four-seven.”

She watched as his arms unlocked and fell to his sides, his large hands clenching into fists. She felt a sliver of satisfaction, though it was only fleeting.

“No, you’ve got Prince Charming to mooch offa,” he said, turning slightly towards her. “At least I don’t have to put out for my meals.”

She held his contemptuous gaze and smirked; so she had struck a nerve. “Jealous?”

He scoffed and moved forward, invading her personal space with his scornful derision. “Tell me, Jackie—do you ever put that big mouth of yours to good use?”

“All. The. Time.” She leaned in close. “You should ask Fez.”

His chair made a squeaking noise as he shifted back, pulling out of her gravity. His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched in anger. She noted, with barely concealed smugness, that there was a slight flex in his chest as he folded his arms and tried to close himself off to her. She couldn’t quite make out his eyes behind the aviators, but she could tell those baby blues of his were just smouldering with ire, questioning whether she had really done _that_ for Fez.

“Bullshit!” he barked. “Fez would have been parading that information around here like he won the fucking Kentucky Derby!” He inched in close again, his hot breath whispering against her neck. “And I know for a fact that you two haven’t fucked yet.”

“Oh, you _know_ , do you?” Her voice was pure venom and she shuffled back until their eyes met and locked.

Her chest was heaving and she was trying her best to slow everything down, to will away the blush that was quickly creeping up her neck and blossoming on her cheeks. How could he do this so easily to her still; unravel her resolve with well-placed and well-pitched words while he remained his precious Zen? She wanted to rip those damn sunglasses off his face and pitch them across the room.

“What’s the matter, princess?” His mouth was dangerously close to her neck again, his voice a husky baritone warmly undulating against her skin. “He not doin’ it for you?”

Some place deep inside her had snapped and suddenly she reared back. He was too close, too hot, too _Steven_. She balled her hands into fists and dug them into the spaces between the cushions. Her gaze lifted to his face and she saw the look of triumph flash in his eyes, carefully concealed behind his aviators, but perhaps not carefully enough. She decided to switch tactics then, her tight scowl morphing into a predatory grin. He could out-Zen her all he liked, but _she_ was the better actor, the better liar.

“Oh, you have no idea what Fez can do for me, _Steven_.” She had purred his name, slowly dragging her tongue across her upper lip. “The things he does to me.” Her fingers went to her mouth and she watched as his gaze angrily followed. “The things I do to him.” She let the plump tip of her middle finger slip past her teeth. “They could make a sailor blush with shame.”

His entire body tensed, his muscles straining against the fabric of his cheap concert tee. He exhaled hotly through his nose and lowered his shades, exposing those vulnerable cerulean blues of his that were now flashing with unmasked contempt. His Zen veneer had already cracked.

“ _What_ are you doing here, Jackie?” he growled, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

That damn voice of his, those damn eyes. She was supposed to be over him. That was what this whole act of trading barbs was supposed to be about: to show him that he didn’t affect her and that she could not only play his game but she could best him at it. But she just didn’t have it in her anymore. She was tired.

“You know what, I don’t even know anymore.” She stood to her feet and grabbed her purse before turning towards him. “Why would I want to be alone here with a dirty burnout loser like you, anyway?”

“Beats me,” he said with a shrug, his tone equally vitriolic.

Once he pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, reverting back to his casual indifference, she knew any hope of her scoring points in this argument had gone out the window. As good as she had become at burning people over the years, largely in thanks to his tutelage, she could never out-burn the burn master. It was time to cut her losses and run before she started kicking shins or shoving pointed heels up burnouts’ asses.

“I’m leaving!” she announced with a snarl, heading for the door.

“Good.”

“Great!”

“Bye, Jackie.” He mock saluted her, making a point not to shift from the television. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”

“You’re an asshole!” she screeched, throwing the door wide open. “And goodbye!”

Doing her best flounce out of the basement, Jackie slammed the door shut behind her and tore up the stairs and out of the Formans’ driveway. She would get as fast and as far away from Steven Hyde as her tank of gas could afford.

* * *

 **THE RAIN WAS** coming down hard, making it difficult to see let alone drive. The forecast had called for freezing rain in the greater Kenosha area but said that Highway 41 North to Milwaukee would be relatively clear. Jackie glanced out the windshield and winced as the rain began to hail down harder, battering her poor blue Gremlin. Relatively clear, her ass!

She placed both hands at ten and two on the wheel and took a deep, calming breath before exhaling. She really didn’t like to drive, especially at night and even more so during bad weather, and nothing screamed bad driving weather conditions like freezing rain, except for maybe tornadoes. However, this was Wisconsin and that wasn’t likely to happen this time of the year—at least she hoped not. But then anything was possible with her luck these past few months.

Putting her faith in her old hunk of junk Gremlin, Jackie continued driving. The car, though a dreadful eyesore, functioned well enough. It could be a bit of a gas guzzler but it got her from point A to point B in one piece and that was all she needed. She worked as a hair sweeper at a run-of-the-mill salon in Point Place for God’s sake. This piece of shit was all she could afford after selling the Lincoln. At least it had the two most important luxuries that her now-poor Wisconsin heart could hope to afford: a working heater and a radio.

Deciding that music would maybe help distract her from the lonely, dark and scary highway, she switched on the dial. _Ruby Tuesday_ immediately started blaring through the small speakers.

 

  _She just can’t be chained_  
_To a life where nothing’s gained_  
_And nothing’s lost  
At such a cost_

  
“You again, huh?” She smiled, remembering how the song had played earlier when she got the call for the interview. “I wonder if this is a sign.”

She turned her head for just a moment and a rush of twin beams veered towards her in the darkness. Swerving to avoid the out-of-control car, she tried to keep her own vehicle on the road, but the pavement was too slippery, the highway was too dark and she wasn’t entirely familiar with it.

Icy strokes of moonlight filtered through the rain, gleaming on the windshield as she threw herself into each turn, trying to balance out the small car that had now become a trundling behemoth veering wildly on the ice-slicked road. Her attention flickered for just an instant to her rear-view mirror, catching the terrified look in her own eyes and the stressful grimace twisting on her lips.

The car pulled a sharp right to the shoulder, spinning her towards a small grove of trees. She wasn’t going to even it out, she realised. She wasn’t going to—

She jerked awake in her seat with a gasp. Her forehead was damp with sweat. She must have been breathing hard for some time because the windows were humid with condescension, almost completely fogged in. Her head was throbbing, like someone had taken an anvil to it. She tried to lift her hand to touch it, but her arm wouldn’t move. Something warm and wet trickled down her left temple and spilled over her eye, pooling on the bottom of her lip. Hitching in a wheezy gasp, she inadvertently tasted the salty copper liquid on her tongue and realised it wasn’t sweat streaming down her face but blood.

Her vision began to swim and her pulse pounded loudly in her ears. The radio was still churning out its last chorus, although weak and tinny now as a truck horn blared in the distance. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but it was a losing battle. The greying fog of unconsciousness had already found her, curling its cold, damp fingers into her brain.

 

  _Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday_  
_Who could hang a name on you?_  
_When you change with every new day  
Still I’m gonna miss you_

  
Everything went black.

* * *


	3. Hey You

“ **WHAT’VE WE GOT**?”

“Young woman in her late teens, early twenties—car accident. Lacerations and contusions to the face and chest, right arm dislocated, probable broken ribs and possible head and brain trauma.”

“What’s her medical history? Any allergies?”

“No idea. She had no ID on her. The police are still looking into it at the scene.”

“Hmm. Her pupils are dilated, minimal response to light. How long has she been unconscious?”

“Paramedics say since they picked her up about fifteen minute ago.”

“Her left lobe is slightly swollen.”

“Cerebral haemorrhage?”

“Christ, I hope not. I see no open wounds or clear abrasions, except for the ones on her face, neck and arms. We’ve gotta open her up and stop the bleeding, relieve the pressure on her brain before she goes into a coma. Prep her and get her into OR 1, STAT!”

_Steven? Steven, where are you? What’s happening to me?_

“Hang in there, sweetheart. You’re going to make it.”

* * *

_17 February 1980_   
_Point Place, Wisconsin_   
_The Formans’ Basement_

 

 **HYDE’S MEMORY OF** last night was a blur of alcohol and weed, and the one and a half syllable caw of his name being bleated in his ear by some annoying fuckwit of girl whose name he couldn’t recall and who had yet to leave his cot.

The morning light, if it was indeed morning, filtered in through the tiny slit of a window above, slinking softly up his naked torso until it found his face. He squinted, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the harsh glare. Since when was there ever this much light in his room?

Behind him he could feel the smooth shapely limbs of the girl had he picked up last night at the bar. She was snoring soundly into his pillow, the thin outline of her body slightly writhing underneath the sheets. She stirred as he woke, pressing full, soft breasts into his back.

He grimaced as he tried his best not to recollect the previous night, or how easily he had found himself in flagrante delicto with the petite brunette nestled behind him. The booze and pot had helped with that, but faint memories were rising to the surface of his mind like exhaled filigree curls of smoke. He normally avoided her type: the small, tanned, dark-haired snotty bitches with big mouths. It was one of the reasons he went after taller girls; slutty blondes and redheads with large racks and long legs—the anti-Jackie Burkhart diet.

The nameless woman lying behind him shifted slightly on her side, her snores quieting. He couldn’t recall the sound of her voice, except the one time she yelled out his name. He remembered telling her to shut the fuck up—he wasn’t interested in talking, wasn’t interested in hearing her speak. If she couldn’t comply with this simple request, then she could get the fuck out. Surprisingly enough, she shut up and stayed. She hadn’t seemed to mind his vulgar mouth. She was just another nameless chick slumming it with a burnout loser, getting back at Daddy for whatever reason. That was what he figured anyway, and even if it wasn’t the case, he didn’t care. All he had wanted was an easy lay.

It was probably the alcohol and the weed (yeah, most definitely the weed) that made him pick her up in the first place, or the fact that the rest of the girls at the bar were either taken or uggos. Or maybe he had just zeroed in on the one girl in the joint who looked a little like Jackie. Of course he’d never admit that or the fact that the only girls he had been cruising with after Jackie were her exact opposites, but last night was different. The argument he’d had with Jackie Thursday night had been playing over in his head like a broken record.

She hadn’t bothered to come back to the basement after that. She and Fez had been missing in action since Friday, which only sent Hyde over the edge. By Saturday night he was alone, drunk and high, itching to find the release that booze and drugs were no longer giving him. He needed a revenge fuck and he needed it from someone who looked like _her_.

It didn’t take long for him to capture the nameless brunette’s attention (it never did). She had been interested and willing. Right away he noticed she had the same hair and build as Jackie. Her eyes were different, as was her face, but she had a flash of that same pirate smile Jackie had—maybe it was something all rich, beautiful bitches shared—and that was good enough for him.

A few beers later and they had already retreated to the back of the bar, their drinks long forgotten as he had her back pressed against the wall, his lips flush on hers while his hands eagerly roamed her lithe body. She had moaned into his mouth, eager and pliant, but the angry, bruised kisses he gave weren’t meant for her. They’d never be for her or any other whore.

The nameless chick murmured in her sleep, stirring him from his half-drunken reverie. He closed his eyes and groaned, trying to shut out the memories. Most of it was still a haze, thanks to the alcohol and pot. What made him bring this girl back to his old room in the basement he couldn’t give an explanation for. It was something he had never done with any girl, except Jackie and Sam—no, not even with Sam.

And now he was painfully aware that he didn’t want this girl here anymore. He wanted her the fuck out of his bed, but it was too early yet. He’d kick her out after the Formans left for church. He didn’t need her making a racket with Red around or he’d be liable to get a boot shoved up his ass.

Stealing a cursory glance at the brunette’s slumbering form, Hyde frowned. The girl seemed docile enough, but that didn’t mean when awake she wasn’t a shitstorm waiting to happen. He vaguely recalled her trying to talk when he had her naked and on all fours on his cot, but he had told her to keep her trap shut. The fantasy was always ruined the moment the girl opened her piehole.

She had willingly complied, eager for a fuck and wagging her ass in the air like a bitch in heat. When she had begun to moan in thrall, he had pushed her face into the pillow to stifle her cries. He didn’t need to hear that shit. She hadn’t sounded right, not like Jackie. _She_ was the one he was supposed to be revenge-fucking, getting back at her for her whorish mouth and the way she always tried to goad him. Fucking bitch never knew when to keep her trap shut or when to let things go. Why did she always have to make him _feel_?

All he could feel right now was a hammer pounding inside his head and the narrowing pinpoint of a clammy churning in his gut. When the nameless brunette began to cling tighter, he shoved her off with a grumble, his jaw clenching in disgust. Naked, sweaty flesh peeled away and he slumped into a sitting position, holding his head in his hands before getting up and sloughing off towards the toilet. He’d kick the girl out after breakfast.

* * *

 **JACKIE’S FATHER ALWAYS** used to say that the only certain things in life were death and taxes. Of course he had been wrong about the latter. Jack Burkhart had probably been dodging taxes for years before he was pinched and thrown in jail. But death—death was certain, of that much Jackie could concede to being accurate. And now she was swimming through her own silver cloud of euthanasia, her thoughts spinning and whirling like a merry-go-round. Except the horses had fangs and her father was in the saddle, beating her down while her mother trilled drunkenly in the background.

Her ribs and shoulders ached and her eyelids seemed sewn shut. All she wanted to do was collapse into _his_ arms, but _he_ wasn’t here, wherever _here_ was. It was a moot point anyway because he was never there for her anymore. At this moment there was only dear old dad, with hair like a raven’s eyes and distinguished streaks of grey, barking and howling at her with all his authority. And she was crying or laughing, trying to get off the damn horse and swim away—to be anywhere but there. But her father was insisting, insisting that she stay still while silver tendrils of her past were being siphoned from her mind.

Liquid silver, she thought dismally, as she tried to stop them from leaving her, grasping fruitlessly as they slipped through her fingers, yelling, “No, not this one! Not that one!” But it was already too late. They were leaving her like everyone else in her life.

And her dad was still screaming, still barking orders, but she had finally broken free and swam, swam towards the shore with all her might. She wasn’t going to listen to dear old dad—no, not anymore. But it didn’t matter because the silver water was already dragging her under the current, swallowing her whole.

* * *

 **HYDE SHIFTED AWAKE** on the couch with a groan, his neck stiff and sore from the awkward angle he had been sleeping in. He’d had a dream about his father, Bud. It was strange how the man always seemed to come to him in his dreams, dredging up memories he would have liked to forget, things his waking mind didn’t care to consider. Perhaps it was the counterbalance to his Zen. He was made to suffer while he slept.

The dream itself he could barely recall, except that Bud had been there: he had buried Hyde alive. It had always been an irrational fear of his. Most people would tell you if you dreamt about being buried alive, it meant you felt trapped or helpless or you were about to make a really stupid mistake. Hyde didn’t care about psychological bullshit like that. What really made the wheels and cogs spin in his mind were the metaphysics of it all—like how did he know what it felt like to be buried alive, what reference did he have for comparison?

He’d often had dreams about being buried alive or being drowned and yet he had never experienced either terrifying sensation. Were these dreams memories from past lives or were they portents? Or maybe he just possessed a vivid imagination for the macabre. He had no trouble forming a perfectly rational basis for his fears, but he did have trouble with trying to adapt those hypothetical fears to the de facto ones in his life—not that he would admit to having any.

Sitting up, Hyde cupped his face in his hands and breathed deeply. He didn’t need to be thinking about this shit, trying to decipher his dreams like Sigmund Freud. What he needed was a joint and another beer to help wash over this nagging hangover. Or maybe not. Beer, pot and girls—at first they had helped him forget, but now he was beginning to think he might have indulged too much and the effects were starting to screw with his head.

He thought back to the brunette from this morning, the one that sort of looked like Jackie, the one who had screeched and swore and kicked at him when he had unceremoniously tossed her clothes and pointed her towards the basement door. He hadn’t expected her to be that upset about it, not that he cared, but the entire dramatic act only reminded him of someone he didn’t dare recall.

He didn’t need the past stirred up for him. He was through with feeling and caring, and no amount of drinking and getting high seemed to be dulling the emotional pain he so vehemently denied having. So maybe it was best for him to lay off the stash and booze for a little while—at least for a day or two. He certainly didn’t need a repeat performance of last night, not in this lifetime.

Taking in another deep breath, Hyde exhaled sharply and lowered his hands. He stood up and briefly palmed his face before yawning, feeling the leaden lethargy of tiredness creep back into his limbs. What he needed was more sleep, to relegate these stupid, needless thoughts to the back of his mind and get some rest. Then tomorrow he’d start over again, refreshed with a new plan of action (or inaction). Because tomorrow was another damn day, a new day, and new days were always better than old ones.

* * *

 **FEZ PUSHED THE** key into the lock of his and Jackie’s two-bedroom apartment. It was a quarter past eleven; he was tired and still hungover (the trip back to Point Place from Chicago had been hell). The last three days with Kelso had been a blur of alcohol, candy and women—and not necessarily in that order. It had been fun but exhausting.

On the last night he and Kelso had finally had a talk about Jackie, putting his life and his relationship with the brunette into perspective. Jackie had been right to ask him if marriage was what he truly wanted because he wasn’t really sure at this point. He just wanted her to be happy and for him to be happy, too. This in itself wasn’t a problem. The problem was that them being together didn’t exactly make this happy dream possible.

Blinking in the darkness, Fez blindly felt along the wall for the hall light switch and flicked it on. “Jackie?”

There was no answer.

He closed the door behind him and threw his keys into the bowl. He had felt bad about what he said to Jackie and wanted to apologise, but at the same time his ego was still bruised. He had hoped that spending a few days away from each other would help, and they did. However, now that he was back home, he suddenly felt like leaving again. He knew he’d have to face Jackie sooner or later, and from experience he reckoned that sooner was better than later.

“Jackie?” He walked around the small apartment. She obviously wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen, so he went to her bedroom door and knocked softly. “Jackie, you awake?”

Still no response.

He opened the door to her room and switched on the lights. Her bed was made, numerous stuffed toys holding down the floral-patterned fort. Nothing was missing or out of place, nothing obvious anyway. There was no sign of a disturbance, no sign of Jackie.

He figured she was probably staying with Donna, although that thought somehow left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Jackie and Donna weren’t exactly best friends anymore; however, since Eric’s return, the former redhead had become less bitchy and self-centred than usual and had seemingly wanted to put more effort into her friendship with Jackie. Still, when Jackie had problems, it was Fez who she turned to now, not Donna, not—

Frowning, he turned off the lights and quietly closed Jackie’s door. He understood now why she had been so upset to lose him; he really was her only friend. Ever since Hyde had returned from Las Vegas with Samantha and Eric and Kelso had removed themselves from the basement, the rest of the gang had gone out of their way to alienate his princess. And by everyone, he meant Donna, Hyde and Hyde’s stripper wife. They never passed up an opportunity to burn Jackie. Sure, sometimes she deserved it, and sometimes even he joined in the fun. After all, that’s what the basement friendship was all about. But even Fez knew it had gone too far at times, especially when it came to Jackie.

The worst offender had been Hyde. How quickly he had gone from treating Jackie like his sunshine to some slut-faced bitch he’d rather cross the street to avoid. Albeit Hyde would have never admitted to Jackie Burkhart being his sunshine, but Fez knew it to be true. He had seen, he had observed and he had stalked. So Fez had been the most shocked to witness the sudden change in his friend, to hear that he had decided to stay married to Sam and that Donna had even encouraged it. It was this shock that had him convincing Kelso to propose to Jackie and to take her in when no one else would. He really had wanted to see his bitchy goddess happy. She was his Jackie, his (arguably) prettiest best friend, and it was her surprisingly quick rejection of Kelso and numbing acceptance of Hyde leaving her for another woman that made Fez so hesitant when she vocalised her decision to pursue him. Had she really just been interested in dating everyone in the circle? Was Eric next?

Still, he wasn’t convinced that Jackie was over Hyde. He had seen how devoted she was to him, how much in love, even before they started fooling around. Jackie had always gone to Hyde when she was upset. He was her hero, her reluctant knight in shining armour.

Jackie wasn’t the only one in love. It wasn’t a one-sided relationship. Fez had quietly observed how surprisingly gently and loving Hyde could be with Jackie, especially when he thought no one was paying attention. Jackie was the first girl Hyde had truly ever loved, and Fez was begrudgingly confident that she was probably the _only_ girl the rebel burnout would ever love.

So on Valentine’s Day, after seven weeks of dating, Fez had done perhaps one of the stupidest things he had ever done in his life: he proposed to Jackie. A part of him did it because he loved her. Maybe not in the way one should love another, but it was still love, even if it was the remnants of worship. Another part of him did it out of desperation and the fear of being alone. However, the main reason he proposed was because Jackie was something like a prize—a bitchy, beautiful prize.

It made him sick when he really thought about it, about how base he could be, but it was the truth. Worst of all, he knew he wasn’t the only one who felt this way. He hadn’t been lying when he told her that she had this way of making him feel like he was the centre of her universe. He was certain that was how Kelso had felt too, maybe even Hyde. Jackie had this magical pull on a guy. At the back of his mind, Fez knew that he didn’t really have _that_ special connection with Jackie. He wasn’t quite the centre of her universe; neither was Kelso for that matter. She hadn’t accepted his proposal, but Hyde...

In the end it all came down to Steven Hyde. Hyde still had a hold on Jackie, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Fez knew this. He had always known this. And after his weekend binge and talk with Kelso, even Kelso had admitted to knowing this (even the stupidly pretty can be observant from time to time). Fez finally realised that his actions, his rushed proposal, were a result of him wanting to break that hold, to show Jackie that he was better than Hyde. Oh, he still loved and respected his friend—Steven Hyde could be the best friend a weak foreign boy could ever ask for—but Hyde could be one mean son of a bitch. All it took was for the poor orphan boy to open his heart to someone and have it bruised, to have the one person he cared about and trusted the most walk out on him, for whatever reason, and Hyde would turn into the meanest bastard on the planet. Then he’d disown you in a bruised heartbeat, just like he had disowned Jackie.

Fez had wanted to prove to Jackie that he was ready for a commitment, that he wasn’t a Steven Hyde. And maybe, just maybe, he had been testing her with the proposal. He still wasn’t sure if he was just sloppy thirds or that Jackie wasn’t using him to get over Hyde. He still didn’t know. But what he did know was that Jackie honestly didn’t want to just marry anyone. The realisation that he was ‘anyone’ and not ‘someone’ hurt his pride; it wounded his ego. And, yeah, he had acted like a jerk. He had been mad and upset and he should have seen it coming.

In his heart of hearts, Fez knew Jackie wasn’t intentionally trying to use him to get over Hyde, but he did know that she wasn’t entirely over his friend, just as sure as he knew Hyde wasn’t entirely over her. But this was an issue beyond Fez’s capacity. Jackie and Hyde would have to hash things out together or on their own or not at all. It wasn’t his or anyone else’s problem. And while Fez wanted more than anything to go back to how things were on before Valentine’s Day, he knew that ship had already sailed. He had ruined it by proposing and getting angry at her answer.

Jackie was right: they were too young and he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to get married. Like Jackie, Fez didn’t want to be alone and it made sense to be alone _together_ with your best friend rather than, you know, _alone_ alone. But Jackie had been smarter than him, more sure of what she wanted or didn’t want, and he would have to respect her decision and hope that she would accept him back into her life because she was one of his best friends.

A wave of tiredness washed over him then and he tried to stifle a yawn, his jaw cracking from the strain. Turning around, he retreated to his own bedroom. He would see Jackie tomorrow and they could talk things out rationally after work. They would have a nice meal, share a bottle of wine and maybe a bowl of candy, and he would apologise for his behaviour. Right now, though, he would go to bed and try to catch up on his sleep from the weekend—not noticing the soft blinking red light on the answering machine in the living room.

* * *

 **A CLOCK MECHANICALLY** ticked away in the distance. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Time was just another sound he had forgot, another one of his senses lost. He had forgot the taste of happiness, the sight of hope. He had forgot the feel of love lying in his arms and the sun beating on his heart. It was all slipping away from him now, like sand running through the cracks of his fingers.

 _Time_. Time was what he needed more of—more with her and more with himself—to figure out where it all went wrong. He couldn’t turn back time, couldn’t escape its cruelty, its ravages of innocent youth. It changed everything and everyone. It had become his chaos, unpredictable and unforgiving.

He never realised before how excruciating it was to just sit back and let time flow by, hoping the wounds would somehow heal on their own. He had no idea how slowly and deliberately time would crawl, how feelings wouldn’t change no matter how hard he tried to drown them in his own brand of poison. And as each second passed, the unconsidered and unfathomable dread of what he had foolishly hoped to obtain (or lose, depending on how one looked at it) only seemed to drift further and farther away.

His heart had woefully remained intact, bruised and bloodied beneath his skin, but still beating. That damn heart of his—the one that refused to completely freeze over, the one that hid behind bruises that ran too painful and too deep, sliding from limb to limb beneath his skin. A heart and a feeling trapped in time, refusing to let go, to let _her_ go. But it was his own fault. He had let her chip away at his walls, had let her blur the lines between what he wanted and what he could never have. He was still feeling the repercussions of her love, for better or for worse, long after he was sober.

In the end he was still the same man who had said ‘I love you’. No amount of time and drugs could ever cover up that fact or change his past. And even though that was exactly what he wanted, to forget her completely, he was still reaching out for her, still trying to find her hand in the watery mist of time.

* * *

 **JACKIE SURFACED, AS** if someone had pulled her up from the depths. She was still swimming somewhere in those turbulent silver waters, but his blue eyes had found her and she swam towards them.

Every time he looked at her she could swear that he was looking deeper than before, as if he was shedding her skin, exposing her vulnerabilities all the way to the bone. She worried that if he looked deep enough, he’d end up shedding away everything she had ever learnt to protect herself with and he would see the tiny black spots of weakness that lay at the centre of her heart.

Worst of all, maybe he would end up seeing the reasons why she was so selfish and spoilt, why she demanded so much from him all the time; the reasons why she took so much care to point out how beautiful and amazing she was or why she went to even greater lengths to distract everyone from the real her, _the real Jackie_. And she wondered if she would ever be ready to show that side of herself to anyone. But more than any of that, Jackie feared that he already knew. He already knew and he didn’t care.

* * *


	4. Fire and Rain

_18 February 1980_   
_Milwaukee, Wisconsin_   
_Columbia St Mary’s Hospital_

 

“ **HOW’S OUR JANE** Doe doing, Doc?”

“Stable. She was in critical condition when she got here Thursday night—touch and go a few times over the weekend.”

“Can we question her?”

“I’m afraid not. She’s still in a coma. We tried to relieve the pressure on her brain, removed the excess blood and induced clotting. The swelling on her left lobe has gone down considerably but she persists in her current state.”

“Will she recover?”

“It’s hard to say with brain injury cases. She could wake up in a few days and be perfectly fine, or she could not wake up at all.”

“I see.”

“She flat-lined last night and we have no clear idea why. It’d help if we had her medical history. Still no identification?”

“Nada. Couldn’t find anything on her person, in her purse or even in the car. We could’ve run the plates, if she had any. We ran her fingerprints once she got out of surgery on Friday, but no hits on file. No one’s been asking around, either.”

“Well, it could take time. She wasn’t the only girl brought into the ICU that night, and that was just for this hospital alone. No telling where she came from or how far she’d been travelling or who’s waiting for her at home.”

“Poor girl. Doesn’t seem right. Who wouldn’t be looking for her? She’s just a little doll. Someone out there’s got to be missing her.”

“I hope you’re right.”

* * *

 **HYDE HAD JUST** settled himself into his chair with a beer after a long day of hardly working when Fez burst through the basement door.

“Is Jackie here?” The foreigner looked frazzled. His normally perfect attire was rumpled and his hair was askew, as though he had been tearing it out of his head.

“What? No,” Hyde muttered, managing to lace his tone with disgust. He wasn’t Jackie’s keeper anymore. It wasn’t his concern where she was or what she was doing.

Fez slumped down in the lawn chair and began running his fingers through his hair. Hyde noted his friend’s anxious appearance with a slight frown. His jacket was undone and he was almost doubled over on the chair, breathing heavily and still pulling at his hair. When he glanced up at the sound of someone descending the stairs, his expression morphed from hopeful to shattering disappointment.

“Hey,” Donna casually greeted, as she led Eric down the stairs.

“Donna!” Fez jumped to his feet, pointing a finger at the unsuspecting blonde. “Did Jackie stay with you last night?”

She looked back at Eric, who only shrugged. “Uh, no?”

“Ai!” Fez dramatically threw himself back down into the lawn chair. “My beloved Jackie is missing! What am I going to do?”

“Whoa, slow down there, Fez.” Donna lowered her hands onto her hips. “What do you mean Jackie’s missing? Did you lose her?”

Eric snorted. “Sure, she’s tiny and everything, but there’s no way you could lose Jackie with that mouth of hers.” He then made his way to the deep freeze to retrieve a cherry popsicle, unaware of the glares directed at him by his girlfriend and Fez.

“Forman’s right,” Hyde said, before taking a sip of his beer. “I tried to lose her at The Hub once, but she found her way back home.”

“Shut up, you sonuvabitch!” Fez snapped. “I’m telling you she’s gone, not here anymore! Missing!”

“Fez, relax,” Donna placated. “She’s probably just out shopping.”

“No, she couldn’t be.”

Eric looped his feet over the back of the couch and sat. “Uh, Fez, you do know we’re talking about Jackie here, right?”

“Yes, I do, you idiot!”

Donna shared a confused look with her boyfriend. She had never seen their friend this upset before. “Fez, settle down.”

“I will not! My Jackie is missing and none of you sons and daughters-of-bitches care!”

Now he had crossed the line.

“Fez, you need to calm the fuck down,” Hyde ordered. No chick was worth getting this upset over. It was just Jackie and she was probably out shopping like Donna had said. “Jackie’ll turn up eventually, man. She always does.”

“But she has been gone for so long!”

Hyde set his beer down on the table a little too hard, causing the amber liquid to splash up and splatter onto his hand. He cursed and wiped his hand on his jeans.

“You two really are joined at the friggin’ hip, aren’t you?” He tried to slip back into Zen, but Jackie and Fez’s co-dependency was really starting to piss him off. “You’re not Siamese twins. You’re not gonna die being separated for a few hours.”

“But it has been more than a few hours.” Fez nervously licked at his lips. “I have not seen Jackie since Thursday.”

“Thursday?”

“We, uh, had a fight,” Fez began, only to have Donna cut him off with a half-amused, half-offended laugh.

“On Valentine’s Day?”

“Ai!” Fez groaned, clutching at his head. “And now my desert rose is missing!”

Donna and Eric exchanged glances while Fez quietly sobbed into his hands. Frustrated, Hyde kicked out his leg and upset the table, startling them. Crying and looking at each other wasn’t going to solve shit.

“You haven’t seen her since _Thursday_?” He was thankful his sunglasses hid what he didn’t want the others to see. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner, man?”

“I went to Kelso’s for the weekend,” Fez explained, feebly wiping away his tears. “I did not get back until late last night, and when she wasn’t home I—I thought she was staying with you.” He looked up at Donna, who only shook her head morosely.

“Christ.” Hyde speared his fingers through his curly ’fro. The memory of what he had last said to Jackie replayed in his head and he grimaced.

“What should I do?” Fez was looking at Hyde for answers. They all were, which only made him curse louder.

Jackie was probably fine. She was most likely off gallivanting somewhere to punish Fez. However, the uneasy feeling settling in his gut and the nagging voice persisting at the back of his mind were suggesting otherwise. Goddammit! He wasn’t even dating the girl anymore and she was still his problem to look after.

“You and I—” Hyde pointed at Fez “—are gonna go to your apartment and see if we can find any clues as to where she went.” And if they were lucky, Jackie would be there. “Donna—” he pointed at the blonde “—you let Mrs Forman know what’s going on and see if she can get a hold of Pam.”

Donna nodded and immediately took off up the stairs.

“What about me?” Eric asked. “What should I do?”

Hyde and Fez responded by taking off out the basement door, leaving their skinny friend alone.

Eric absently tapped at his knee with a free hand and shrugged. “I’ll just wait here, then. In case she shows up.”

* * *

“ **HELLO? HELLO! IS** anyone out there?”

Jackie was screaming, calling out for someone to save her. She was lost, out on the edge of a world she didn’t understand but was unmistakably her own. She was swimming towards a shore that was constantly out of reach, searching for the man with the blue eyes. But no one was there; no one was coming for her. She was alone.

Nothing seemed quite real anymore—or perhaps it was too real. She was still swimming, still floating in that silver cloud of euthanasia, still searching for the shore, still seeking those blue eyes—eyes endless like the ocean, eternal like the sky. They were all she could remember of him now, all she could remember of herself...

* * *

“ **JACKIE!** ” **FEZ CRIED** , flicking on the hallway lights to his apartment before throwing his keys into the bowl.

Hyde had wanted to barrel past Fez the second he unlocked the door, but he had to remain Zen. Jackie wasn’t his girl anymore; she was Fez’s. As much as the idea confused and repulsed him, he had to respect it. Besides, there was no reason for him to get worked up over Jackie’s disappearance. There was no love lost between them.

_Bye, Jackie. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out._

He winced slightly at his own words being thrown back at him. They kept repeating in his head, and he clenched his jaw in anger. So what if the last words he said to her that night were basically a burn? She’d be back eventually, and she wouldn’t even remember or care what he had said. Jackie didn’t care about him anymore. She hadn’t cared that much when he had let Sam stay and she hadn’t cared when Sam had left. And though he’d never admit it, that had bugged the ever-living shit out of him.

“Her room is how she left it,” Fez said, directing Hyde to Jackie’s room. He hadn’t even noticed that he was still been standing in the foyer.

With a shake of his head, Hyde ambled his way to where Fez stood, taking a peek inside her room. Nothing looked unusual or out of place. Her bed was made with a few dozen stuffed animals taking up residence on the folded quilt at the end.

“You sure you haven’t heard from her since Thursday, man?” Hyde noted the caged and slightly panicked look in Fez’s eyes as he wrung his hands, and he frowned.

“I am sure. We had a fight and I, uh—I asked her something I shouldn’t have, said some things I didn’t mean. I was so angry that I left for Kelso’s right away.” He was speaking so quickly that Hyde could barely catch every other word. “But she was here before I left for Chicago.”

Said something he shouldn’t have? He leaned back against the door frame. “Pam isn’t in town, is she?”

“I don’t think so.” Fez shrugged. “Even if she was, she’d never visit Jackie here.”

Hyde nodded and wiped his hand over his mouth. If Jackie wasn’t with her mother, then where could she be? Hesitantly, he stepped into her room. He’d never been in here before. He’d never wanted to step foot inside Fez’s apartment with Jackie around, but now he had no choice.

“Looks like she wrote something down.” He pointed to the pen and pad of paper on her desk. “Maybe she met up with someone.”

“I will get a pencil and rub out the etching!” Fez exclaimed excitedly, searching through Jackie’s drawers for a pencil.

“Yeah, you do that, Dr Quincy,” Hyde muttered.

Stepping out of the room, Hyde exhaled slowly. He was starting to breathe a little easier, but then those cold fingers of nausea curled into his stomach again, signalling trouble. He made his way into the living room and noticed a small red light blinking on the coffee table next to the sofa. He walked towards it with a grimace.

“Hey, I’m gonna press this PLAY button here on your answering machine.”

Fez’s head popped out from the doorway just as Hyde pressed down on the button. After a second, the machine beeped and a woman’s voice came on:

_“Hello, this message is for Jacqueline Burkhart. It’s 10:35 AM on Friday, February the 15th. This is Gloria West calling from Mr Thompson’s office at News 4, WTMJ-TV. Miss Burkhart, we were expecting you at the scheduled time for your interview this morning. Since you didn’t show, we’re afraid we’re going to have to disqualify you for candidacy. We’re very sorry, but dereliction is something we don’t condone here at News 4. We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavours and have a pleasant weekend. Bye-bye now.”_

The answering machine beeped one last time and the red blinking light disappeared.

 _So that’s why Jackie had been looking for Donna—to tell her about her interview_.

“Sounds like she didn’t show up,” Hyde said, but Fez didn’t seem to be listening; he was too busy staring off into space. “News 4. That’s in Milwaukee, isn’t it?”

Fez shrugged in response, still in a daze, and Hyde cursed to himself. Well, Fez was useless, or more useless than usual. So what if Jackie hadn’t shown up for an interview in Milwaukee four days ago? That didn’t have to mean something bad happened. She could have still been in the city, sulking because she had missed her big break.

Hyde’s thoughts turned sour. There was no way Jackie would have missed an interview for such a big TV station, no way would she have turned down an opportunity like that. Not again. But then what could have happened? Did she get called away by someone else—maybe by her mother or a relative? No, that didn’t make any sense.

He had seen her the night she left, watched her take off out of the basement in a huff. Watched her walk out into the rain. Then it dawned on him. It had been raining that night, _freezing_ rain, and he had yelled at her to go. He swallowed painfully as bile rose to his throat.

“Fez, man—I think it’s time we call the cops.”

* * *

“ **SHE COULD HAVE** just decided to go on a mini vacation.”

“With what money, Forman?”

Hyde shook his head and sat back into his chair. He and Fez had raced back to the Formans’ with the news and Kitty had gone straight to the phone while Red drove to the police station. More than an hour had gone by and the gang waited impatiently in the basement.

“Besides, there’s no way Jackie would have missed that interview.”

“Hyde is right,” Fez said.

The foreigner had moved from the lawn chair to the sofa beside Donna. He pulled out a bag of candy from his jacket pocket and began stuffing his face with abandon. Hyde was surprised he had lasted this long without sweets.

Between the chewing and soft sobbing, Fez managed to blubber, “I can’t believe she was going to leave me for a job in Milwaukee!”

Donna rolled her eyes and shared an uncomfortable look with Eric over the top of Fez’s head. Hyde just crossed his arms over his chest and glowered.

“Fez, uh, maybe that’s not the most important issue right now,” Eric said, and his friend nodded sadly.

“You are right, Eric. It’s just that I am so worried. What if she got into an accident?” He glanced over at Hyde. “It was freezing rain that night, didn’t you say?”

Hyde nodded mutely and the room went silent.

“Well, at least we have Nurse Kitty on our side.” Eric motioned limply with his hands. “She’s having her people call their people to check out all the hospitals in the Milwaukee area.”

“Her people call their people?” Donna repeated with an upturned smirk.

There was a loud noise, the sound of metal grating against polished cement, as Hyde roughly pushed back on his chair. He stood to his feet.

“I don’t like this, man.” He was pacing back and forth in front of the deep freeze. “If Jackie were in a hospital or—” he couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence “—whatever, man, we’d know by now. The police would have contacted Pam or left a message on Fez’s machine. And Mrs Forman would have found Jackie hours ago just by asking for her by name.”

Donna shifted in her seat. “What are you saying, Hyde?”

Everyone’s eyes were on him, and for the second time that night he was thankful for his shades. His tongue darted along his upper lip and he lifted his hand to the back of his neck for a moment before folding his arms across the chest.

“What if she didn’t get in an accident? What if—what if someone took her?”

“No!” Fez was on his feet. The bag of candy tumbled off his lap and spilled onto the floor, a rainbow of colours staining the rug. “Shut your mouth!”

“But, Fez—”

“I said _shut your mouth_ , you sonuvabitch! Don’t say things like that!”

“Fez, man...” He was licking his lips again, a nervous habit. He didn’t like saying this anymore than anyone else liked hearing it, but dammit if this wasn’t a very real possibility. Someone had to say it. “If they can’t find her, then—”

“What if she wasn’t carrying any ID?” Donna cut in, trying to stop Hyde from finishing his sentence. She knew he wasn’t trying to upset Fez. Hyde was merely saying what they were all thinking or what they all didn’t want to be thinking about. It still didn’t mean that any of them needed those dark thoughts vocalised. She couldn’t deal with the mental image of someone taking Jackie, hurting her, doing _things_ to her...

“Yeah, what if she lost it or left it somewhere?” Eric added optimistically. “Or maybe her wallet got stolen?”

Both Fez and Donna nodded at this, but Hyde only shook his head. “Naw, man, they’d still be able to find out who she was.”

Fez’s brow creased in confusion. “How?”

“Her license plates, man.”

“Oh,” he muttered, and then his eyes widened. “ _Oh_!”

Everyone turned to look at Fez.

“What is it?” Donna asked, eyeing the foreigner who had begun to wring his hands in nervous apprehension.

“Jackie only bought her car last week. She hadn’t got new plates for them.” He licked at his dry lips. “She was supposed to pick them up in Kenosha, but I guess she forgot.”

“Fuck!” Hyde curled his hands into fists and punched at his thighs. How the hell were they supposed to find her now? She could be hurt, kidnapped or dead, and fuck it all if they would ever know what happened to her. Ever.

He released his fists and stormed towards the basement door. He couldn’t stand around here waiting for a call that wasn’t going to come. Grabbing his coat, he slammed the door shut behind him and angrily bounded up the steps. He was going to get in the El Camino and drive. He was going to drive to Milwaukee and look—fuck, he didn’t know where to look, but he’d scour the entire goddamn city if he had to, until he found her and brought her home.

Just as he reached his car, Red pulled into the driveway and parked alongside the El Camino. At the sight of his foster son about to unlock the door to his car, Red’s face darkened. He switched off the ignition and slowly stepped out of the Toyota, his eyes trained on Hyde. He had obviously just returned from the police station; the haggard look on his face and the angry way he carried himself like he was ready to shove a foot up someone’s ass suggested that the visit hadn’t gone well. It was apparent that the Point Place police knew dick-all about Jackie’s whereabouts.

“You!” Red barked, pointing a gnarled finger at Hyde. “I don’t know whether you’re taking off to find her or you’re just taking off, but you’re going to go back inside and sit with the rest of those dumbasses and wait for news like a damn grown-up.” His eyes narrowed. “You got that?”

“Yeah.” Hyde slipped his keys back inside his pocket and Red’s brow lifted a fraction of an inch.

“Yeah?” he repeated.

Hyde cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I mean yes, sir.”

Red grunted irritably in response, walking towards the sliding door while Hyde headed back into the basement. He rolled his eyes and looked heavenwards. “Goddamn kids.”

* * *

 **THE WORST THING** was not having a name for what she was feeling right now. Jackie wasn’t even sure if it was a feeling. It was something bigger, something too huge for her conscious mind to grasp or her subconscious to put into words. So for now she labelled it a feeling—a feeling with no end and no beginning, just a humming buzz of uncertainty.

But the one thing certain was that this was nothing like she had ever felt before, like the long days that seemed to fold themselves effortlessly into weeks and years as if they were paper cranes hanging in the void, and instinctively she felt as if this was an end... _her_ end.

* * *

“ **I’M REALLY WORRIED** , you guys.” Donna descended the basement stairs with a mug of coffee in her hand. “Mrs Forman still hasn’t found anyone fitting Jackie’s description.”

Kitty had called the Point Place Hospital director, who had immediately reached out to every hospital in the Kenosha and Milwaukee area. That had been more than three hours ago. Everyone was still waiting by the phone for the call, with Kitty cursing at any unsuspecting caller who accidentally held up her line. By this point nerves were raw and frayed, but none more openly than Fez’s.

“Well, it took you long enough to get worried!” he snapped, before stuffing a Tootsie Roll into his mouth.

Donna’s brow almost disappeared into her hairline. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know what that means!” he sniped. “It means that it takes Jackie to go missing or, _¡Dios no lo quiera!_ , for her to get hurt before you give a damn!”

“Fez, that’s not fair!” Donna shot back defensively. “I give a damn. I just—Hey, you said you two got into a fight, so I just thought she took off. She does that sort of thing, y’know!”

“How would _you_ know? How would you know how she reacts when she is upset? You weren’t the one holding her hand when this train wreck—” he motioned violently to Hyde “—barrelled out of her life. _I_ was the one there picking up the pieces, not you! You were too busy sticking your tongue down the new guy’s throat and making friends with the stripper whore and her powder blue Trans Am!”

“She didn’t seem that upset,” Donna mumbled, shifting uncomfortably at the mention of Randy in Eric’s presence. “And, hey, you liked Sam! You practically drooled over her every time you saw her. Actually I’m pretty sure you did!”

She looked over her shoulder at Hyde for support, but he only stared at the muted TV with his arms folded rigidly across his chest.

“Donna, I am a man,” Fez said patronisingly. “Whores are whores and Fez loves his whores.” A sad look crept into his dark eyes. “But Jackie was upset and I was not Jackie’s best friend. You were.”

“I—” Donna opened her mouth, but the air seemed to deflate from her lungs. She set her coffee down on the table and exhaled loudly before slumping down on the sofa. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

“God, what is wrong with me?” She leaned forward, allowing her face to be swallowed up by her hands. “Jackie is self-centred and annoying, but she’s always been there for me, like when Eric left me— _twice_.”

“Hey,” Eric interjected nervously with a wave of his hands. “Let’s not make this about me. This is about _you_ betraying Jackie.”

“I couldn’t even give her a reason why she was my friend when Sam had asked,” Donna continued with a groan.

 _What?_ Hyde shifted slightly in his seat, his attention finally diverted from the television.

“Look, let’s not fight about this,” Eric said as he settled down beside his girlfriend. “We’re only going to work ourselves up and this isn’t about us.” He looped an arm over Donna’s shoulder and pulled her in close so that her head could rest beneath his chin. “Maybe it’s time we called Kelso.”

She angled her head to look up at Eric. “Shouldn’t we wait until we find out something more concrete? Knowing Kelso, if we were to tell him now he’d rush over here and get into an acci—” She stopped herself short and shut her eyes.

“We cannot use the phone, anyway,” Fez added dejectedly. “Mrs Kitty snarls at anyone who comes near it.”

Suddenly the phone rang and everyone jumped in their seats. Kitty had obviously picked up the moment it rang because it didn’t ring again. The gang then turned towards the stairs, listening and waiting. After a few agonising minutes, the door to the basement finally opened and Mrs Forman came running down the stairs.

“That was the director,” she announced, and everyone stood up nervously to greet her. “There is no one listed as Jackie Burkhart in any of the hospitals in the greater Kenosha or Milwaukee areas, or the state for that matter.” She twittered nervously and frowned at herself before waving two slips of paper in the air. “But I got a list of all the Jane Does admitted around the same time Jackie left.”

“Jane Does?” Fez asked.

“Jane Doe is what they call a woman who doesn’t have any identification,” Kitty said, twisting the pieces of paper in her hands.

 _Usually a dead woman who has yet to be identified_ , Hyde thought grimly to himself.

“Here’s the list for Kenosha and this one is for Milwaukee.” Mrs Forman handed the slips of paper to Donna. “You’re going to have to split up.” She pointed at the paper. “There are a few places to check out.”

“What about you and Dad?” Eric asked.

“We’re going to stay here and wait for the police to call if they find anything.” She gave her son a thin smile and tapped at the papers in Donna’s hands, as if to indicate that they had better get a move on, before turning back up the stairs.

Hyde watched Mrs Forman go, catching her eyes as she reached the top of the landing. He held her gaze for a second, noting the worried and sympathetic look etched in her features, and turned away. The door shut behind her and he clenched his fists in sad anger. Fuck, this couldn’t have been good if Mrs Forman looked like she had just asked them to drown some newborn puppies.

“Okay,” Donna began, immediately taking charge, “we’ll split up into three groups.”

“I do not want to be by myself!” Fez whispered, shoving more candy into his open maw.

“You can come with us, Fez,” Eric said, his eyes flickering to Hyde. His best friend was standing against the deep freeze with his hands balled into tight fists. If Fez was left in his company, the foreigner was likely to die.

“We’ll take Kenosha.” Donna walked over to Hyde. “Hyde, you can head straight to Milwaukee and we’ll meet you there.”

She handed him the slip of paper and their fingers briefly touched. Hyde glanced up and met her eyes, catching the stern look she was giving him. This wasn’t a request; it was an order.

He baulked inwardly, feeling a twinge of resentment at her silent insinuation. Did she really think that he wouldn’t want to help find Jackie? A brief image of the petite brunette slipping into the creek while he laughed and walked away flitted through his mind and his stomach tightened in knots. He nodded curtly and took the slip of paper from her hand.

“So, how are we gonna do this?” Eric clapped his hands together. “How are we gonna meet up in Milwaukee?”

“We can coordinate with your mom,” Donna suggested. “Call her to tell we’ve already checked out a place and so forth.”

Eric shook his head. “She wants to keep the phone line open, just in case.”

“We can call WB and leave messages with him,” Hyde offered.

“Good idea!” Donna then asked Hyde for WB’s number and found a pen, jotting it down on her list. Glancing over at the piece of paper that was still folded in Hyde’s hand, she pointed at it with her pen. “We should make a copy of the Milwaukee list. When we get into the city, we’ll start from the bottom up. Hyde, you’ll start from the top down.”

Hyde unfolded the piece of paper and Donna saddled up beside him.

“Okay, so the first place you’ve got is—”

Both Donna and Hyde looked at the first name on the list with dawning horror. Donna closed her eyes and turned away while Hyde crumpled the paper in his hand.

_Fuck, not there._

* * *

**THE DRIVE TO** Milwaukee had been the longest hour of his life. However, walking down that grey sterilised mile was easily the most difficult, most agonising moment of Steven Hyde’s existence. Instinctively, he felt as if this was an end—the end of his Zen stone in an endless pool of ripples; the end of the days when he would wait and react, foreseeing every move on the chessboard of life with burning lucidity. But what the fuck did he know anymore? When did he ever know?

He stood rigidly in front of the covered window, sliding off his aviators and clipping them into the collar of his shirt with a shaky sigh. His Zen was gone now. It had abandoned him when he needed it the most.

A man in a white lab coat stood next to him and unceremoniously cleared his throat, his finger hovering over the intercom button. “Are you ready?”

_Fuck no._

Hyde swallowed hard, a dry audible click at the back of his throat, and gave an imperceptible nod. He winced as the man in the white lab coat pressed down harshly on the intercom button, answering with crackling white static first before giving way to the inevitable silence.

“We’re ready.”

Click.

_Am I ready? No. I’ll never be ready for this._

The curtain swiftly shunted open, making Hyde’s decision for him.

* * *


	5. Don’t Let the Sun Go Down (on Me)

_19 February 1980_   
_Milwaukee, Wisconsin_   
_Milwaukee County Morgue and Medical Examiner_

 

IT FELT LIKE there wasn’t enough air in his lungs. His body refused to collect oxygen the way it was supposed to, couldn’t direct it down the right tubes, couldn’t expel the carbon dioxide quickly enough.

He couldn’t breathe.

The medical examiner on the other side of the glass window began peeling back the blue sheet covering the body, and Hyde stiffened. He was frozen in place, every muscle locking painfully as his mind screamed in helpless silence. The blue sheet was folded neatly above the woman’s breasts, exposing the V line of the purple sutured Y incision. Her body was unnaturally stiff like a mannequin’s, her skin a pale greyish-blue hue. Her eyes were closed and her raven dark hair was oily and slicked back behind her head, the tips pooling around her shoulders.

“It’s not her,” he heard himself say, as a stinging sensation hit the back of his eyes.

The man in the white lab coat pressed down on the intercom button and spoke words that Hyde didn’t hear. His eyes flickered back to the medical examiner on the other side of the glass, watching his gloved hands return to the blue sheet and drape it back over the nameless woman’s face.

His stomach churned at the sight and he sharply turned away, balling his hands into fists. He held them tightly at his sides and waited for the wave of nausea to pass.

Christ, of course he’d be the one sent to the morgue—to identify the raped and the murdered, to try to find Jackie in the cold, seedy underbelly of the city. He’d been playing over a mantra inside his head that the girl on that slab wasn’t his girl, and he had never been so relieved and repulsed all at once when the cold dead face revealed to him wasn’t Jackie’s. He had almost sighed in relief—in fact he had a little—but the thought that he’d have to do this again only made his stomach lurch and roll in mutinous waves.

The medical examiner who worked the intercom must have been used to people getting sick over seeing dead bodies, for he directed Hyde towards the washroom. Hyde just shrugged him off and turned down the hall towards the exit. He had to get the fuck out of there—now.

He reached for a pack of cigarettes as he walked. His hand was shaking as he brought a cigarette to his lips. He felt like an addict suffering from withdrawal. As he rounded the corner, the girl behind the reception desk made a tsking noise at the sight of him and pointed to the non-smoking sign, but he just ignored her and took out his lighter, barrelling through the doors and out into the cold early morning air.

Once outside, he inhaled sharply through his nose, the unlit cigarette still dangling from his lips. The fresh air did nothing to calm or invigorate him. Instead, his stomach knotted painfully and an acidic liquid bubbled up his oesophagus. Shortly thereafter he was doubled over, spilling the contents of last night’s dinner, a gallon of coffee and his cigarette onto his boots and the asphalt below.

After another round and a few more of dry-heaving, his stomach stopped clenching and he spat the rancid taste of bile from his mouth. He stood up and shakily wiped a hand across his lips. He considered taking out another cigarette but decided against it. Instead, he fished his keys from his jeans pocket and haphazardly made his way across the street to his vehicle like a man in a drunken stupor.

The sun was already beginning to rise, blanketing the city with a soft orange glow. He inhaled a frosty gulp of air and exhaled slowly, a feathery mist marking his breath. He rubbed his freezing hands together for warmth, the cool metal of the keys impeding his progress, and caught his haggard reflection in the shiny black chrome of the El Camino. With a grimace, he slipped his aviators back onto his face and opened the door.

He suddenly felt terribly old.

* * *

THE TRAFFIC WAS heavy on the route to Highway 41-N out of Kenosha. The roads were already congested with early morning commuters and Eric felt a rare wave of road-rage wash over him as a middle-aged woman in a grey sedan cut him off while simultaneously applying her makeup.

“Wanna leave some road for the rest of us!” he bellowed, waving his fist at her before slamming it down on the wheel.

Donna shifted slightly in the passenger seat, noting the annoyed look on her boyfriend’s face. They had just left Memorial Hospital with no sign of Jackie, not even close. In fact the Jane Doe had turned out to be an escaped mental patient in her early thirties. Donna had a feeling that the majority of the women ‘fitting’ Jackie’s description would just be any old woman with no identification. It would be a wild goose chase with no goose, and the thought that they wouldn’t find her friend made her feel sick to her stomach.

“Hey, Donna—” the ire in Eric’s tone had been replaced with something akin to hesitancy “—what was the first place on the list you gave to Hyde?”

The blonde visibly shook, startled by Eric’s question. Then her stomach rebelled in remembrance and she swallowed hard, looking up at the rear-view mirror to check on Fez. His face was turned towards the window, staring off into the unknown distance.

“The county morgue,” she whispered, hoping Fez’s attention was wholly fixed elsewhere, like on that invisible moving spot outside the Vista Cruiser.

“Oh.” Eric’s grip on the wheel tightened and he licked his lips. “Uh, are we—are all the places like that on the Milwaukee list?”

“No.” She shook her head, threading her bottom lip with her teeth. “Most of them are hospitals.” _Most of them_.

“So there will be, uh, live people, then?”

She nodded mutely.

“Car accidents?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Your mom didn’t write down the grisly details.”

He nodded and inhaled sharply, his eyes still trained on the road. “Man, I really hope Hyde didn’t have any luck with his first search.”

“Me too.”

“What are you two talking about?”

Donna turned at the sound of Fez’s voice while Eric eyed his friend from the rear-view mirror.

“Directions, man,” he said. “Donna’s giving me directions for the next hospital.”

She shot him a grateful look and Fez nodded dumbly.

“I should have never fought with Jackie,” he said with a voice that no longer held any real emotion. He had spent his tears hours ago.

“What did you two fight about?” Donna asked hesitantly.

“I asked her to marry me.”

Donna and Eric exchanged glances before simultaneously shouting, “You WHAT?”

“I asked her to marry me,” he repeated. “What, were you two not listening?”

“Yeah, we were, but—” Eric gestured lamely with his hands before settling them back down on the wheel. “Donna, help me out here.”

Donna turned around in her seat. “So, why the fight? Was the diamond not big enough?”

Fez shook his head. “She said no.”

“Jackie said NO?” Donna was gripping the shoulder of her seat as though she were about to rip it off. “No way!” Her brow furrowed. “But wait—I don’t get it. If she said no, then why the fight? I mean aside from the obvious.”

“Yeah, Fez.” Eric glanced at his friend in the rear-view mirror. “You guys have only been dating for little of a month. I wouldn’t think you two were ready for marriage.”

“Says the man who ran out on his own wedding,” Donna commented with a raised brow, and Eric cringed.

“I’m not ready. We’re not ready. Whatever,” Fez mumbled, clearly frustrated. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I was scared I’d lose her.”

“Lose her?” Donna shook her head. “Fez, you’re like her ideal guy. She made a list and everything.”

“And yet she cannot imagine herself marrying me,” he retorted grumpily.

“Well, maybe not now, but that’s a good thing, Fez.”

“Yeah,” Eric added. “You don’t want the marriage-crazy Jackie.”

“I suppose.” Fez turned back towards the window. “It would be nice if she actually _wanted_ to marry me, though.”

“Wait, so let me get this straight.” Donna had her head cocked to the side in full analysis-mode. “You proposed, she said no. You admit that you might not be ready for marriage in the first place and you really only asked because you thought she’d leave you or whatever. So why the fight?”

Fez glanced up at the blonde, his expression sheepish. “I may have told her that Hyde was right—that she made men stupid.”

“Damn,” Eric murmured with a shake of his head. “Even I’m not _that_ stupid, and I’ve said some pretty stupid things in my time.”

Donna nodded in agreement and Fez groaned, cupping his face in his hands. “Ai, I know! I am such an idiot!”

“Yeah, you are,” Donna agreed, a hint of disgust lacing her tone.

“What Donna really means to say is don’t beat yourself up over it, Fez. Let Jackie do that for you.” Eric offered his friend a thin smile. “Cause when we find Jackie—and we will—you can apologise and grovel accordingly.” He then cast a nervous glance his girlfriend’s way. “Right, Donna?”

The blonde blinked twice before nodding. “Yeah, right. Jackie’ll be tearing you a new one for sure, Fez.”

“You think so?” Fez’s tone was hopeful, almost saccharine. “That would be lovely.” He took in deep breath and smiled. “Thank you, my friends. I really hope you are right.”

Eric turned his attention back to the road then, silently steering the Vista Cruiser onto the Highway 41-N exit to Milwaukee while Donna watched the vehicles and the scenery whiz by.

They really hoped they were right, too.

* * *

“I’M AFRAID YOU wasted a trip,” the doctor with the harelip informed Hyde matter-of-factly. “The former Jane Doe was identified and released early Monday morning.”

When Hyde shifted into an aggressive stance, the doctor shrugged uncomfortably and held up his clipboard like it was his last line of defence.

“Uh, sometimes it takes a while for the information to register in the system.”

Frustrated, Hyde exhaled sharply through his nose. The muscle in his jaw spasmed erratically as he tried to control his flaring temper. It wasn’t the doctor’s fault that he had visited three places already, two of them morgues, and had found no trace of Jackie.

He’d been relieved that the two dead women he had identified were not her, but this other girl was alive and, well, he’d been holding onto the slim hope that she was his Jackie. But now that hope was shattered and there were only a few places left to visit on his list. He suspected that none of them would pan out the way he wanted.

Mumbling curt words of thanks, he turned around and headed for the door, any door. His shoulders had slumped forward in defeat. He was so tired he was walking in a circle, not entirely sure where he was or where he was going. A few seconds later he found himself standing in a waiting area. The furniture here looked old but comfortable. Hell, one step above a muddy ditch would’ve been the Plaza Hotel to him right now.

With tiredness and lethargy steadily seeping into his limbs, he dropped himself into a chair with plush green seating. Off to his right, parked next to a soft-drink machine, were the payphones. He knew he should get up and use one of those phones, call WB and leave a message for Forman and the others, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He just didn’t have the energy.

He started to nod off then and, inevitably, his thoughts drifted to Jackie.

The days since he’d last seen her somehow seemed much longer than what was real. The hours since she had gone missing had stretched out, agonising and jarring like shards of broken glass beneath bare feet. A brief image of her sitting in his lap, her eyes looking down into his with such warmth and love, flashed through his mind and he winced. He didn’t want to be thinking about that now; the raw heat of the memory juxtaposed with the cold reality of time.

He didn’t want to voice his thoughts aloud, but he was beginning to worry that Jackie wasn’t in Milwaukee at all, maybe not even in the state of Wisconsin. She had dropped clean off the face of the earth as far as he was concerned. The very real thought that he’d never be able to see her again was leaving an ache in parts of him he hadn’t even known existed, filling him with an unfamiliar sense of emptiness and dread. And now he was left clutching at memories that didn’t care to be dismissed as she silently dissolved into his bloodstream.

Inhaling deeply, he opened his eyes and sat up in the chair. He pressed a hand to his sensitive stomach with a groan. It hadn’t felt right since the drive to Milwaukee—no, it hadn’t been right since he found out Jackie had been missing. Throwing up outside the morgue hadn’t helped.

He wanted to chase back the nausea and ache with a bolt of molten whiskey, straight from the bottle. He wanted to feel the alcohol burn in his throat and distract him from the burning in his stomach and in his heart. He didn’t want to go back out again and search for Jackie when he’d only be shown more dead bodies and lost women, and goddammit if one of those bodies wasn’t going to end up being hers.

Cursing softly, he doubled over and held his head in his hands. Christ, he didn’t want to be in this place; he didn’t want to be anywhere near death anymore.

After a moment, he dropped his hands and settled back into the chair with a tired sigh of defeat. He flipped up the collar of his jacket and his eyelids began to slide shut without protest. Sleep came quickly then, and dreams followed soon thereafter. Dreams of hands running through a tumble of dark curls, of sweet kisses, long and hot and languid on his lips, of soft laughter vibrating against his skin.

Most of all, he dreamt of finding her.

* * *

THE DREAM WAS collapsing.

Everything was falling away from her; memories and thoughts were spinning out of time and space. But ever-present was this feeling that she was looking for someone, or maybe he was looking for her.

She tried to make out his face, but the details were a little too foggy, his body too vague where her memories failed to flesh it out. She could sense him near, feel him dipping his face into the curve where her neck met her shoulder, finding that magic spot just behind her ear. It felt so familiar, so right.

Slowly, he pulled back and their eyes met. Blue eyes—blue like the sky, like the ocean. She would never forget them, she told herself. Never. She would commit his image to her memory. She would never forget.

But the dream was already collapsing.

It was almost time.

* * *

HIS HANDS WERE a torment to him as he slept; they wouldn’t rest. They twitched as he slumbered, shaping the words of his dreams to music. Zeppelin played over and over in his head and his hands reacted, tapping and strumming, reaching for tiny soft hands that he had once held so often before all of this.

Hyde’s fingers jerked as the music in his head began to sharpen in his ears, shrill and tinny, and nothing at all like his dreams. He awoke in a daze, groggy, before palming his face with a sigh. He glanced around the place and took in the décor. He was still at St Mary’s Hospital.

Some sort of disco crap was humming on the speakers, creating a dull beat in the background. He shifted in his chair and winced in pain. His joints were stiff from the awkward position he’d fallen asleep in and his right leg was tickling with the pins and needles of paraesthesia.

He glanced down at his watch. He had only been asleep for twenty minutes. Looking down at his watch again, as though it would magically read a different time, he decided he had better call WB and leave a message for Forman and the others. They were most likely on their way to Milwaukee by now, if they weren’t here already. It’d be better all-around if he had them meet him here. He couldn’t go see another dead body by himself again. He just didn’t have the strength or the will anymore.

Smoothing his hands down his jeans, Hyde stood up. He tried to shake out the pins and needles sensation in his right foot before making his way to the payphones. He yawned loudly and brought his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, pushing up his sunglasses. He’d need to buy some Tylenol. His head was killing him.

He dropped his hand and fished a dime out of his jeans pocket. Pressing the money into the coin slot, he was about to dial WB’s number when a busty-blonde nurse brushed past him, knocking into his shoulder. The young woman looked ready to cast him a seductive smile in apology when she noticed the tired scowl on his face and decided a whispered acknowledgement might be best. He wasn’t in the mood to flirt.

Once the nurse was out of sight, he turned back to the phone and tried to recall WB’s number. That was when he overheard murmured voices from behind.

“How’s your sleeping doll doing, Paul?”

“Jane Doe? No progress yet.”

“I still can’t believe no one’s come to claim her yet.”

“Yeah, she’s like Sleeping Beauty without her prince.”

“I’d volunteer my services.”

“Something tells me that girl has a boyfriend who wouldn’t appreciate your services, Jim.”

“You’re probably right. A hot little thing like her most likely has her own fan club.”

“Hey, man.” Hyde looked back and forth between the two doctors before abandoning the payphone. “You have a Jane Doe patient here?”

The younger doctor, Jim, who appeared to be in his late twenties, carefully studied Hyde’s unkempt rocker appearance with some disdain. He looked as though he was about to retort when the older doctor, Paul, interjected.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Uh, my friend went missing Thursday night.” He ran his fingers through his curly ’fro. “She was heading to Milwaukee for a job interview. I’ve—I’ve been looking all over for her, gone to a few hospitals, the county morgue...”

“Thursday night, you say?” Dr Paul asked, and Hyde nodded in the affirmative. “Could you tell me what she looks like?”

“Real small,” he said somewhat excitedly, although he was trying his best not to get his hopes up. “Around five, five-foot-two, brown hair, brown eyes; real pretty.”

“Sounds like our Sleeping Beauty, all right,” Dr Jim said with a grin, and Hyde felt the sudden urge to pop the man in the face.

“Sleeping Beauty?”

“My young coma patient,” Dr Paul said. “She arrived at the hospital late Thursday night—a car accident victim.”

Hyde swallowed hard. “Can I—can I see her, man?”

“Of course.” The doctor, whose actual name tag read Dr Connors, turned and signalled for Hyde to accompany him. “Follow me.”

The doctor led Hyde down the brightly-lit corridor and out through a pair of doors to another section of the hospital. The walls were bare and beige, the ceiling lights flickering with the quiet hum of fluorescence. The hallways themselves gave off a complex aroma of medical disinfectant and bitter coffee, vaguely nauseating.

He kept a slight distance between himself and the doctor, hesitantly following him into a darkly-lit room. He felt as if he had just entered a dream or some badly scripted drama. The room itself was buzzing with electricity and the whirling of blinking machines. There were four beds and only two were occupied. An old woman slept soundlessly near the door while at the back of the room next to the window was a half-closed curtain portioned around a bed.

A nurse was tending to an IV bag. She turned slightly and glanced up at the doctor and Hyde as they approached. Letting go of the bag, she reached for the curtain and carefully pushed it all the way back, allowing the two men to step inside. Nestled between the beeping machines was a hospital bed, and in it rested the small body of a sleeping girl.

Hyde couldn’t see much at first from behind the doctor, so he manoeuvred around in front. The girl wore a powder blue hospital gown with a loosely woven yellow blanket covering her from the waist down. Her face and arms were badly bruised and scratched, both carrying some butterfly bandages, and her ribs looked to be heavily wrapped with gauze, if indicated by the way her gown fitted over her torso.

Her scalp had been shaved in a spot about the size of a silver dollar just over her left ear and was dressed with a small bandage. In the spaces that weren’t covered or heavily bruised were small, white electrode pads attached to her skull, temples and chest. Needles and tubes ran from her inner left forearm to an IV bag while another ran from her right arm to a nearby monitoring machine. Hooked into her nostrils was a two-pronged tube that fed oxygen to her lungs. Another tube, the feeding one, he presumed, hung behind her.

Her eyes were closed and puffy and her face was swollen and bruised. It all seemed too surreal to be true, but underneath all that tubing and wiring was his doll; his Jackie.

“Jackie?” His voice sounded weak and timid to his own ears.

Fear spread through him like a rumour. His mind was kicking into gear, trying to register the limp, broken body lying in front of him as Jackie, _his Jackie_. He found himself caught with half his brain in the real world while the other half was trying desperately to retreat into the world of make-believe—one that did not consist of a comatose Jackie.

“Is that your friend?” the doctor asked, and Hyde nodded dumbly. “Could you tell me her name?”

“Jackie Burkhart,” he rasped.

He reached out to touch her but quickly pulled back. Would his touch hurt her? She looked so weak and fragile.

“Can you tell me where she lives?”

“Point Place,” he said in a daze, watching the slight rise and fall of her chest.

“Wisconsin?”

He nodded again.

“Well, at least now I can finally search for her medical history.”

Hyde glanced up, finally registering the doctor’s words. He needed Jackie’s medical history to help her.

“Uh—” he cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back “—if you want that sort of information, you can call a friend of mine. She’s a nurse at Point Place Hospital. Plus she knows Jackie.”

“That would be great.” Dr Connors smiled slightly before taking a pen from his jacket pocket. “Could you give me her number?” Hyde gave him the Formans’ number and the doctor motioned to the chair next to Jackie’s bed. “You can stay here, if you like.”

“Yeah. Thanks, man.” When the doctor was about to leave, Hyde suddenly turned around. “Wait, uh... Will she wake up?”

“We’re not sure.” Dr Connors shrugged. “She could wake up in a few days or a few weeks or not at all. The good news is that she’s begun breathing on her own and her vitals are up. Aside from her current condition, she’s in remarkably good health. It’s just a matter of her brain telling her body to wake up.”

Hyde nodded mutely and turned back towards Jackie as the doctor left the room. He scrubbed his hand over his face with a sigh. He almost couldn’t bear to see her like this. Awake, she was always so full of life, even when she was mad; especially when she was mad.

God how he loved to rile her up when they were together—just to see the way her eyes would light up and how her chest would heave. She was beautiful when she was angry, gorgeous when she was truly happy. But now she wasn’t anything. She wasn’t angry or happy or upset. She was lost and broken, and it killed him inside.

A wash of fire and ice swam through his veins and his hands began to tremble. Jackie was alive. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t being hurt by some stranger. He should’ve felt relieved, happy even, but seeing his girl lying on a hospital bed with needles and tubes sticking out of her little body made him want to lash out. He wanted to touch her, to grab her in his arms and hold her close. But she was so fragile, like if he were to touch her she might just dissolve or shatter into a thousand pieces. Instead, he grabbed the chair and pulled it up beside her bed and sat and waited.

He sat there watching her for a minute before finally gathering the courage to take her hand in his. It was cold and limp and he felt a lump form at the back of his throat while he tried to coax some heat into her pale olive skin. He tried to think of something to say to her but his mind revolted, reminding him of the last words he had spoken to her before she left.

_Bye, Jackie. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out._

A muscle worked in his jaw and he tried very hard not to grind his teeth. The tension in his mouth worked its way down to his neck and back, extending all throughout his body. He felt like shit and, what was more, he knew he deserved to feel this way.

He turned her small hand over in his then. She was so tiny and helpless. He knew he should call the others and let them know that he finally found her, but he couldn’t seem to move, couldn’t seem to will himself to stand and walk away from her. Not yet. Her hand was locked in his now and he wasn’t sure who was holding whom.

 _Just a little while longer_ , he told himself. Just a little while longer with her and then he’d call.

He leaned in close, taking off his aviators with his free hand and hooking them into the collar of his shirt. She had always preferred him this way: his eyes exposed and his emotions unmasked. Vulnerable. He knew she deserved this, deserved this small sacrifice of his Zen, but more than that she deserved his words—words that had never come easily to him.

“Hey, Jackie, it’s me.” He cleared his throat and glanced down at her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “You know I’m not so good with words. I’ll never be _that_ guy: the one who says the right thing at the right time. In fact, I’m the opposite of that guy; the one who always seems to mess up and says something that hurts you instead.”

He tried to open his mouth to speak again, but the words wouldn’t come. He ran his thumb over the curve of hers and closed his eyes. Of all the times he could be struck mute, when he really had something important to say.

Why couldn’t he say anything? No one was around, except the old lady sleeping in the corner, and Jackie wasn’t even awake to hear him. So why was this so fucking difficult? Why couldn’t he just speak?

“Dammit, Jackie! I need you to wake up, okay!” He bent over, bringing her tiny hand to his forehead. “I need you to say something, anything. Yell at me, nag me, whatever.

“You’re—you’re my sun, Jackie. My day can’t begin unless you’re there to bug me. You’re that annoying glare in my eye that I can never seem to get rid of—” he smiled and brought her fingers to his lips “—that I don’t want to get rid of.” He kissed the small cuts on her fingertips, brushing soft lips over healing wounds. “I know lately it seems like that’s all I’ve been trying to do: put you down and push you away.

“Alright, no ‘seems’ about it. I _have_ been doing those things. I’ve been a real asshole to you, for a long time, and you don’t deserve it. And—” he tenderly kissed her knuckles “—and I’m sorry, Jackie. I’m really sorry.”

His eyes went to her face, her beautiful, bruised face, and he swallowed painfully. This wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

“And one more thing—I lied.” He licked his lips nervously. “I _did_ know.” His grip on her hand tightened and he stood up so he could lean in close to her ear. “So if you wanna find out what I meant by that, then you’re gonna have to wake up. Do you hear me, Jackie? You’re gonna have to wake up, because I’m not telling you anything more with your eyes closed.”

His lips brushed along the shell of her ear, whispering her name one last time before his mouth moved to her lips, planting a delicate kiss there. Into that brief kiss he poured all of his gentleness, all of his hopes. Then he slowly pulled away and sat back down, bringing her little hand back to his head.

She couldn’t leave him, not now.

Then Hyde did something he hadn’t done since he was a child: he closed his eyes and prayed.

* * *

THE GIRL WITH no name swam through the turbulent waters, flailing and thrashing against nothing and everything until she was being lifted, soaring upwards like a cork out of a bottle, like an eagle in flight, like a Zeppelin in the sky—always ready to drop back down, always losing momentum despite herself.

Maybe she was screaming, maybe she wasn’t, but her ears weren’t working either way. All the sounds were mixing together, echoing back and forth, passing through the fire that was her mind. Then her world of illusions shattered. Her silver cloud evaporated, shrivelled and contracted with cruel speed. She could almost hear it pop, the little ‘oh’ that her world made when it realised she was still a part of it.

She tossed her head back and gasped, taking in the sweet air that was full of blood and life and the masculine scent of man; of jeans and cotton and the faint aroma of salt from sweat and the musk of aged wood. Something warm grasped her hand and pulled her upwards. It was like a pinch at the back of her mind, signalling for her to wake.

Hesitant eyes fluttered open into tiny slits, allowing precious, blinding slivers of light to flood across her irises. She swallowed dryly, an audible click at the back of her throat. She tried to breathe through her nose but found something lodged in there, bursts of oxygen flooding her nostrils.

The hold on her hand tightened and she feebly squeezed back. Suddenly the grip loosened and she could hear the sound a chair being kicked back. Still, she couldn’t see. Everything was too bright, too blurry.

“Jackie?”

Someone was speaking, jumbled words in her ears, like someone talking on the other side of a wall. Her hand moved, engulfed by someone else’s—a big hand, a warm hand. Who was holding her? Was it the man whose name she couldn’t recall?

She tried to turn her head and grimaced at the pain, both physical and emotional. No longer could she see his face; it was lost to her now. His toothy boyish grin, his curly hair, his sky blue eyes—all gone. Had she imagined him?

“Jackie?” The voice was clearer now, distinctly masculine. A name was on his lips like a whisper, a butterfly kiss too beautiful for words. “Doll?”

Was this the man of her dreams? She didn’t know. She could no longer recall his name or his face or the colour of his eyes. Why couldn’t she remember the colour of his eyes? Had she ever known? It was all too confusing and painful. She just wanted to drift back to sleep, back into her terrifying but familiar dreams.

“I can’t—”

She reached out and touched his cheek, and he leaned into it. She still couldn’t make out his face, but that expression, no matter how blurry, she could sense it. He looked relieved, so grateful, but she couldn’t understand why. Had someone been hurt?

She tried to speak, to grasp for words or for some sort of understanding, but nothing came until, “W-where is he? Where is he?”

The stranger’s face fell. His grip on her hand loosened. “Fez? He’ll be here soon.” He turned away from her. “I’m—I’m gonna go get the doctor now.”

Her hand fell from his face and she croaked a raspy, “Thanks,” before shutting her eyes. _Thank you, whoever you are._

His warm hand slipped out of hers and she felt a slight clenching in her chest at the loss of contact. She tried to focus on his face before he left, to look at him properly. Did she know him? But the effort was proving to be too much and she was so very tired.

Helpless, she could only follow his blurry, retreating form before her eyelids slowly slid shut. The cold grey fingers of unconsciousness were curling into her brain again, peeling away at one last thought:

_Who am I?_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunshine metaphors were inspired by Lisa’s (MistyMountainHop’s) very entertaining [T7S comics](http://misty-mountain-hop.deviantart.com/). (Although Hyde won’t be hiccupping rainbows in this fic; sorry.) Title inspired by Sir Elton John.


	6. Ruby Tuesday Redux

_19 February 1980_   
_Milwaukee, Wisconsin_   
_Columbia St Mary’s Hospital_

 

BY NATURE, JACKIE Burkhart was a woman of extremes, capable of denying and defying all laws of common sense. Life with her would never be common or even the garden variety sort.

Still, there were some laws of the universe she couldn’t (or hadn’t yet bothered to) circumvent, and one of those was the ironclad law that any important event in her life would happen entirely by accident—and it would go spectacularly wrong. Some called this Murphy’s Law; Jackie called it Jackie’s Law, and Jackie’s Law was currently in full-swing.

Nearly six days ago the young woman had been offered the job interview of a lifetime, and nearly six days ago she had lost control of her vehicle and careened into a tree. She had lost her interview, her consciousness and quite possibly her mind. Well, maybe that last part was a bit of an exaggeration. She had only lost her memories.

Yeah, _only_.

“Good morning.”

She glanced up, blinking slowly, her eyes still adjusting to the fluorescent glare. The man who had greeted her was smiling softly, his hands clasped together and held in front. He was wearing a long white lab coat with green scrubs on underneath and a silver stethoscope hung around his neck. A doctor.

He was fairly tall man, most likely in his late fifties, with salt and pepper hair (more salt than pepper) and light grey eyes. He had a fatherly look to him, gentle yet stern, and a no-nonsense mannerism. Standing next to him was a young woman who looked to be in her early twenties, with bleach-blonde hair and a relatively pretty face. Her smile was big and plastered and not all sincere.

Jackie already didn’t like her.

“Morning,” she rasped.

She still wasn’t used to speaking, so she cleared her dry throat and tried to sit up. A sharp pain stabbed at her ribs and she hissed, slumping back down on the bed.

“Don’t move,” the doctor cautioned. He pressed a button that adjusted the bed’s angle so that she could sit up a little more comfortably. “I’m Dr Connors, your attending physician, and this—” he motioned to the fake-smiling blonde “—is Nurse Price. She’ll be taking down your insurance information.”

“Insurance?”

“That’s right!” the nurse said, a little too chipper. She then brought out a pen and tapped it on the metal clipboard she was holding. “So, Miss Burkhart, if you could just tell me the name of your insurance provider...”

“Miss Burkhart?” she repeated.

She had already sussed out that she was in a hospital—there were uncomfortable needles digging into her arms and hands, after all—but she had absolutely no idea what this bottle blonde was talking about.

“Yes, Miss Burkhart,” Nurse Price repeated, oblivious to Jackie’s question. “Can you tell me the name of your insurance provider?”

“Who is Miss Burkhart?”

“Uhm, that would be you, miss.” The nurse warily glanced up at the doctor before turning back to Jackie. “You’re Jackie Burkhart.”

Jackie paused. “Huh.”

Dr Connors frowned at the brunette’s vacant response. He pulled out a small light from his breast pocket and shined it in her eyes. After checking both pupils, he pocketed the light and rested both hands on the steel railing of her hospital bed.

“Jackie, can you tell me what year it is?”

“1980...” Her brow creased in thought. “I think?”

“Do you know what state you are in?”

“Uh... I don’t know.”

Dr Connors took the pen from the nurse and held it in front of Jackie. “Do you know what this is?”

“It’s a pen,” she deadpanned, before shoving the thing out of her face. “I’m not an idiot.”

Dr Connors smiled and handed the pen back to the nurse. “Fair enough.” He grabbed a chair then and settled down, carefully examining Jackie for a moment. “Jackie, I’d like to ask you a few more questions, if that’s okay with you.”

She swallowed thickly before slowly nodding her assent.

“What’s five plus five?”

She arched an incredulous eyebrow. “Ten.”

What kind of questioning was this?

“Five times five?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Twenty-eight divided by four.”

“Uh, seven.”

“What is the capital of the United States?”

“Washington, DC.”

“The capital of Wisconsin?”

“Madison.”

“Who is the current president of the United States?”

“Jimmy Carter.” She huffed impatiently. “Where are you going with all these questions?”

“I’m just creating a baseline.”

“For what?”

“Where and when were you born?” he pressed, ignoring her question.

Her brow knit in deep thought. She should know this, right? “I—I don’t know.”

“Do you know how old you are?”

“No.” She licked her lips, a sickening feeling of dread churning in her stomach. Why couldn’t she answer these questions about herself? “But I assume I’m an adult.”

Dr Connors’s eyebrows rose at this. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t sound like a little kid,” she reasoned. “I look small, but—” she glanced down at her petite frame “—am I a teenager?”

The doctor smiled. “You’re eighteen.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t know what to think of any of this. Was she losing her mind? Was this even happening? Was any of this even real?

Dr Connors leaned in close. “Jackie, I believe you are suffering from retrograde amnesia.”

“Amnesia?” She blinked, nonplussed. “Isn’t that where you forget who you are?”

“Not always. Those who suffer from retrograde amnesia don’t necessarily forget who they are. There are varying degrees of memory loss. In most cases patients only lose their most recent memories prior to the traumatic incident that triggered the memory loss.”

“Tragic incident?”

He glanced down for a moment before meeting hers eye. “Jackie, you were in a car accident six days ago. You just recently woke up from a coma.”

“So—” she swallowed dryly, allowing the information process “—that triggered my amnesia?”

“It’s one of the possible causes, yes.” He frowned. “You suffered some minor brain damage, which resulted in the swelling of your left temporal lobe.”

She brought a shaky hand to her forehead; the needles reacted to the extension of her arm by tugging uncomfortably at her flesh, and she winced. “I can’t—I can’t remember anything.”

“I’m afraid you’re suffering from a severe form of retrograde amnesia, something called a global psychogenic fugue.” Dr Connors exhaled slowly. “This means you have lost all memories of self but you still possess information that doesn’t pertain to you specifically, such as language, geography, mathematics, politics, etcetera.”

She nodded slowly, as if she understood, but she didn’t. Right now she felt lost, like her entire world had shattered all around her. Yet the fact that she couldn’t remember her past didn’t make her feel exceptionally sad, for whatever reason. She didn’t want to cry or lash out. In fact, all she wanted to do was retract inside herself, but that just left her feeling trapped and alone.

“Is there something wrong with my brain?”

“Structural-wise, we’re not really sure.” The doctor tapped his fingers on the metal bar. “We didn’t find anything during the surgery or in the X-rays to suggest permanent damage. Your memory loss could be psychological, which means that your condition is temporary.”

“So I’ll get my memories back?”

“We’ll have to run more tests, see if your amnesia isn’t a result of anatomical damage to the brain.”

“And if it’s the, uh, other thing?”

“Psychological?” He shrugged. “Well, that depends. Your memory could return in a few days or a few weeks. Sometimes it can take months. Your memories could come back gradually or all at once.”

“And, uh—” she bit her lip and closed her eyes briefly “—if it’s structural damage?”

“The brain will eventually heal itself. All or some of your memories will return...” He paused thoughtfully. “Occasionally, they won’t.”

“I see.” Suddenly Jackie was no longer very fond of Dr Connors. Some part of her knew that he was just being honest with her and she should be appreciative of his candour, but another part of her wanted to tell him that his bedside manner needed some fine-tuning. “So, exactly who am I and where am I?”

The doctor pulled up a stool. “Your name is Jackie Burkhart and you’re in Columbia St Mary’s Hospital in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.”

“Jackie Burkhart.” She tasted the name in her mouth like sour milk. She wanted it to register, to mean something to her, but it didn’t. Suddenly the pain in her ribs that had been a dull ache earlier had flared to the point where she was gasping for air.

“Are you okay?” He was on his feet, immediately checking her vitals.

“No, I—I’m actually in quite a lot of pain right now.” She clamped her hands down on the mattress and tried to will the pain away, pretending that she was perfectly fine. It wasn’t working.

“Where?”

“My ribs.”

The doctor reached into the right pocket of his white lab coat and pulled out a syringe with a thin hypodermic needle. Popping off the safety cover, he released any air built up in the syringe and stuck the hairline needle into the clip on the IV tubing. He slowly pressed down on the plunger, releasing a clear fluid into the IV.

“This is Demerol,” he said. “It should help with the pain.”

Jackie clutched at the sheets in pain while the doctor adjusted the IV bag and tossed the syringe in the trash.

“Aside from the head trauma, you suffered three broken ribs, which almost punctured your lungs. Since you were in a coma, we hadn’t really worried about your pain medication.”

“That’s comforting,” she said through gritted teeth, feeling the sudden urge to throttle her physician. After a moment, though, a strange wave of euphoria swept through her body and her death-grip on the sheets loosened as the opioid drug worked its wonderful mojo. “Wow, this stuff is great.”

She instantly felt mellow and relaxed; high.

“Better?”

“Oh yeah.” She grinned, her head lolling to the side. “By the way, I’ve decided that I don’t like my name: Jackie.” She tasted the word in her mouth again. “It sounds too much like Jack, a _boy’s_ name. I don’t like it.”

At this point Nurse Price finally piped in, “Then what name do you intend to go by?”

She turned her head and glanced up at the woman; she had forgot she was still there. She pondered the nurse’s question for a moment before nodding resolutely, or at least as resolutely as her drug-induced mind could manage.

“Ruby—Ruby Tuesday.”

“Ugh.”

Her head snapped up. “What? Why did you just ‘ugh’ my name?”

“Ruby? Seriously?” The nurse snorted derisively. “It’s just not right.”

“ _You’re_ not right... _Blondie_! What’s not to like about the name Ruby?”

“Ruby is just so... _Wizard of Oz_.”

“No, you’re thinking about the ruby slippers. No one was named Ruby in that movie. And I think Ruby Tuesday is a great name. It’s so—it’s so—”

“Weird?”

She huffed at the nurse. She didn’t know why she liked the name or why she thought it was appropriate for her; she just did.

“Whatever. I like it.” She nodded more resolutely. “I feel like a Ruby.”

“Okay, _Ruby_ ,” the nurse said with a roll of her eyes.

“Whatever, _Blondie_.”

“Okay, then,” Dr Connors interjected, putting a hand on the small of Nurse Price’s back as he guided her towards the exit.

“Doctor, you’re seriously not going to let her call herself Ruby Tuesday, are you?”

“I can’t tell her what to call herself,” he whispered. “Besides, she’ll forget in a few hours once the medication has worn off.” He turned back to Jackie. “We’re going to let you get some rest. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled, her eyelids drooping shut.

_Stupid blonde bimbo. What does she know? Ruby Tuesday is a great name. A great name!_

Jackie just had no idea why.

* * *

DONNA WAS RESTING her head on Eric’s shoulder while Fez fed nickels into the soda machine. At the end of the corridor, a janitor in grey fatigues was using the buffer to polish the floor in slow, lazy sweeps, lulling the blonde to sleep. She lifted her head and shook it in an effort to wake herself but found her head slowly returning to Eric’s shoulder.

“When’s your mom coming?” she asked, trying to keep her mind alert.

They had been waiting to see Jackie for hours, ever since Hyde had WB get a hold of them earlier that morning. It was now well past noon and no one had let them see her yet. No one had even spoken to them except the admitting nurse earlier that morning.

“After her shift or whenever Red gets off from the shop.” Eric tried to stifle a yawn but failed. “Probably sometime after dinner.”

She nodded, her cheek brushing against the fabric of his shirt. Sitting in these chairs for hours on end was tiring and uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable and nerve-racking as it was to wait and find out if Jackie was okay or not.

Both Hyde and the admitting nurse had informed them that Jackie had been in a coma and had woken earlier that morning, but no one knew how the younger girl was faring medically. Hyde had left before Donna could get any more answers out of him, claiming to be tired and needing to check on the store to make sure Leo hadn’t accidentally given away records for free—again.

“I’m hungry,” Fez whined, before taking a sip of his root beer.

“Then go the cafeteria.” Eric brought a hand to rub at his tired eyes. “If none of us are here when you get back, then you’ll know where we are.”

He nodded wearily. “Do you think they’ll have candy?”

“Probably.” Eric lowered his hand and was greeted with a familiar and welcoming sight walking down the hall towards them. “Kelso!”

Eric jumped up, and Donna with him, and they both rushed towards their lanky friend. Fez reached him first, his soda pop quickly discarded, and wrapped his arms around his best friend’s neck, almost toppling him over.

“Hey, little buddy.” Kelso was trying to juggle Fez and the gifts in his arms before Donna and Eric joined in the group hug. “I got here as soon as I could. I even got a speeding ticket!” He sounded somewhat proud of this.

The three of them finally released Kelso from their embrace, with Fez letting go last. Eric then affectionately frogged his taller friend in the shoulder.

“Hey, we didn’t need you getting into an accident, too!”

Donna and Fez nodded in earnest, earning a sheepish grin from Kelso.

“I was careful, man. I was only driving like ten, twenty miles over the speed limit.” Donna and Eric rolled their eyes but smiled. “I tried to tell the cop that I was a brother-in-arms but he said a security guard at a strip club isn’t the same thing. Pfft, whatever.”

“Well, we’re really glad to see you, man.” Eric affectionately clapped Kelso on the back. “I’m sure Jackie will be, too.”

“Is she awake?”

“We don’t know yet.” Eric shrugged somewhat sadly before glancing down at the gifts in Kelso’s hands, one of them being a big blue balloon. “So what’s all this?”

“I brought Jackie a balloon cause I know she likes balloons,” he said excitedly. “Oh, and some candy, too.”

Fez’s attention was immediately captured. “Ooh, candy?”

“Kelso,” Donna began, looking her taller friend up and down with some concern, “why are you so dirty?”

His face was smudged with dirt and the knees of his jeans were muddy and wet. “Oh, I was wrestling with a dog outside,” he said, as if this was an adequate explanation.

“Why?”

“Cause it tried to steal my candy!” he screeched, taking a yellow polka-dotted bag filled with what they assumed to be candy out of his jacket pocket.

“You sonuvabitch!” Fez cried, snatching the bag from Kelso’s hand. “That candy is mine! I left it at your apartment!”

“Hey!” He snaked the candy back from Fez. “Possession is like nine tents of the law!”

“Nine tents?” Donna glanced over at Eric, who merely shrugged, and turned back to Kelso. “Don’t you mean nine _tenths_?”

“No, I’m pretty sure he left the candy in the tent in my living room.”

“You have a tent in your—” She shook her head and waved her hand in front of her face. “Never mind. I don’t wanna know.”

Kelso stuffed the bag of candy back into his pocket, eliciting a growl from Fez. He then glanced around the waiting room, as though looking for someone.

“Hey, where’s Hyde?” His curly-haired friend was absent and his other three friends shared apprehensive glances before fixing their attention to the recently polished floor.

“He went home,” Fez said, failing to meet his best friend’s eye.

“What the hell, man!”

“To be fair, Kelso,” Eric said, “Hyde is the one who found Jackie.”

“Yeah,” Donna added reluctantly. “He was the one who was here with her when she woke up and called the rest of us.”

“B-but you’d think he’d stay.” Kelso shook his hair out of his face. “Wait, this is Hyde we’re talking about here. What was I thinking?”

“We ponder that same question all the time, my friend,” Fez said, clapping his friend on the shoulder with a thin smile. “We usually assume nothing.”

Kelso’s mouth broke out into a wide grin. “Burn!” But then his grin quickly faded to a frown. “Still, Hyde should be here, man.”

Everyone glanced down at the floor again. No one was going to dispute the truth Kelso spoke. Hyde should have been there. However, unlike Kelso, the others had an inclining of what Hyde had gone through, and they weren’t sure if any of them could have done what he did and want to stick around the hospital afterwards.

“Kelso.” Eric placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Hyde had to identify dead bodies all last night and this morning.”

“What?”

“It’s true,” Donna said. “We split up into two groups and Hyde drove to Milwaukee first. He had to go to the county morgue and—” She couldn’t finish her sentence and turned away with a shudder.

“Aww, man, that’s gruesome.” A rare look of contemplation crossed Kelso’s handsome features before he handed the balloon to Fez. “Well, I’ve gotta pee,” he announced. “I had like eight cups of coffee this morning.”

Kelso took off in search of a washroom while Fez held onto the balloon, poking at it with his finger. Just then a nurse came from down the corridor and Donna jogged over, flagging the young woman down.

“Excuse me, we’re friends of Jackie Burkhart,” she said by way of introduction. She stepped out in front of the blonde nurse before she could manoeuvre around. “We were wondering if she was ready to receive visitors yet.”

“Jackie Burkhart?” The nurse, whose name tag read Nurse Price, made a face. “Oh, _her_.” She rolled her eyes and walked over to the recently vacated admittance desk. “Let me page Dr Connors. He’s her attending physician.”

Donna clapped her hands together and brought them to her mouth with a smile. “Thank you—thank you so much.”

The nurse nodded, flashing a too bright smile, and picked up the phone. A page for Dr Connors to the admittance desk rang through the PA system. Not long after Kelso returned from his trip to the washroom, a look of relief on his face. He walked over to Fez to take back the balloon and the foreigner began to curse at him—alternating between English and his native language—demanding his candy back.

“So, you’re friends of the patient?” the nurse asked behind a thin veneer of tacked-on politeness.

“Yeah.” Donna looked the woman up and down. The nurse seemed to be trying her best to mask a scowl and Donna had to stop herself from grinning. “Why, did she insult you?”

The nurse glanced down at her clipboard. “Sort of.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of her thing.” She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to deflate her smile and waved dismissively. “Don’t take it personally.”

Nurse Price only smiled thinly at Donna’s words and held up her clipboard. “Uhm, since you’re her friends, could any of you tell me her insurance provider?”

“Uh, I don’t think Jackie even has health insurance.” Donna glanced over at her foreign friend. “Does she, Fez?”

“The salon doesn’t offer it,” he answered despondently before muttering, “those dirty sons-of-bitches!”

“She could have one with Pam.” Donna offered with a shrug. “She’s under twenty-five, so she still might be covered under her mother’s health insurance—if Pam has any.”

“And her mother’s full name is?”

“Step away, Donna. I’ll handle this,” Kelso ordered in his cop voice, hooking his thumbs into the front loops of his jeans. “I know everything there is to know about Jackie’s mom.” He glanced down at the nurse. “So, what exactly do you need—her mating name or whatever?”

“Her _mating_ name?”

“Yeah, her mating name: the name Pam had before she married Jackie’s dad. Duh!” He glanced over his shoulder at the gang and pointed at the nurse with a stupid grin on his face. “This lady doesn’t even know what a mating name is.”

“Kelso—” Donna brought her thumb and middle finger to the bridge of her nose and sighed. “It’s called a _maiden_ name.”

“That’s what I said!” he shrieked. “A _mating_ name!”

The nurse took a hesitant step back. “If you could just give me her mother’s phone number, I can ask her these questions myself.”

“Yeah, we don’t know how to get a hold of her mother.” Eric was rubbing the back of his neck. “My mother’s been trying to reach her for the better part of a day.”

“She’s a very busy whore,” Fez added with a scowl, whether it was reserved for Pam or the lack of candy, no one knew.

“I, okay...” The nurse paused. She didn’t quite seem to know what to say. “Uhm, do you have a number where I could reach Miss Burkhart’s father, then?”

“Her dad’s in jail,” Donna said.

“Ah, I’ll just page Dr Connors again.” Nurse Price then quickly walked away, leaving the gang to themselves.

“What if Jackie doesn’t have any health insurance?” Donna began to pace. “She’s been in the hospital for almost a week and who knows if she’s had surgery or what’s wrong with her. The medical bill is going to be a fortune.”

“Yes, and she makes far less than a fortune at the salon,” Fez said. “I can barely afford rent and candy.”

Just then a tall man in his mid-to-late fifties wearing scrubs and a white lab coat approached them. He had salt and pepper hair and hard eyes, though the corner his mouth and eyes bore deep smile lines—a man who knew how to smile. He was smiling now, the sort of polite smile you gave to strangers when you wanted them to get out of your hair as quickly as possible.

“Hello. Are you all friends of Jackie Burkhart?”

“Yes.”

“Sorta.”

“I used to do it with her.”

“I’d like to do it with her.”

The doctor’s brow creased into a slight V. “I’m Dr Connors, Jackie’s attending physician. How may I help you?”

Donna was the first to speak, “Uhm, we’ve been waiting here for several hours and we were wondering when we could see Jackie. One of the nurses earlier told us she was in a coma and now she’s awake, so... ?”

“I’m afraid your friend is currently resting.”

“Still?”

Dr Connors offered the young adults a genial smile. “We’ve had to up her medication since she regained consciousness, which means she can now feel the pain from her injuries.”

“Oh, okay.” Donna scratched the back of her head. “Well, uhm, when _can_ we see her, then?”

“She should be awake in a few hours. I suggest you go back to your hotel or wherever you are staying and rest. You can come back again around five.”

“No, we’ll stay here.” Donna glanced back at the guys, who nodded in agreement. When she turned back towards the doctor, there was an odd look on his face, like he wasn’t telling them everything. “Is there something else?”

“Yes, but I can only inform her immediate family of any information relevant to her medical condition.”

“Yeah, her parents aren’t here,” Eric said. “Her dad’s in prison and her mom—well, we don’t know where she is.”

“I see.” Dr Connors exhaled sharply and rubbed his hands together. “Are any of you family members of Jackie’s?”

“I used to do her, like in the biblical sense.”

“Shut up, Kelso!”

“No, we’re all the family she has.” Donna swallowed hard with guilt. They really were all the family Jackie had and none of them had even known she was missing until yesterday. “She used to live with me. My father was like her foster father and she was like my foster sister. Does that count?”

Dr Connors smiled. “No, but I feel I should warn you regardless, since I can’t stop you from visiting her if she wishes to see you.”

“Oh God!” Donna brought her hands to her mouth. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Jackie is suffering from retrograde amnesia.”

“No!” Fez yelled dramatically, and then blinked, nonplussed. “What is that?”

“She has no memories of her past before the accident,” the doctor explained patiently. “She doesn’t know who she is or who any of you are for that matter.”

“Is it temporary?” Donna hands had moved from her mouth to cross over her heart.

“We don’t know yet. There was swelling on her left temporal lobe when she was first admitted to Emergency. The swelling has gone down and we can see no obvious anatomical damage to the brain, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. We also have to consider a neurobiological basis for her amnesia.”

“Okay,” Eric interjected with a raised hand, “how about you break this down to us in laymen terms.”

Dr Connors stared at him blankly. “Those were laymen terms.”

“Forget laymen!” Kelso shouted. “Do you speak English?”

“Okay—” Eric raised a finger this time “—explain it to us as though you were talking to children.”

“Slow children,” Fez added.

The doctor took in a deep breath. “We don’t know whether her amnesia stems from physical damage to the brain or psychological trauma. Since we have yet to find a physical or anatomical anomaly—i.e. we haven’t found any obvious problems with her brain—we’re leaning towards a psychological impairment.”

“So,” Kelso began, “some psycho is impairing Jackie’s brain?”

“Just—” Eric waved his hand at the doctor. “Just ignore him. He’s very, very stupid.”

“So Jackie’s brain is making her forget?” Donna asked, ignoring the idiots behind her.

“It’s known as a psychogenic fugue, where an individual consciously or unconsciously avoids a traumatic memory or memories. It can be situation specific, like a mother forgetting her child after the recent loss of said child, or it can be global, where the individual forgets all personal memories before the traumatic event.

“Jackie’s case appears to be global. She’s able to retain information that doesn’t pertain to her personally, but all personal history—her parents, her friends, her life up to this point—remains elusive.”

“Will she get her memories back?”

“If Jackie is suffering from a fugue state, then her amnesia is reversible. Her memories could return anywhere from a few days to a few months, coming back slowly or all at once.”

“That’s good,” Donna said with some relief, and the boys nodded in agreement.

“Just remember that she doesn’t know who you are. Don’t try to force the memories to come back or push your feelings onto her. You are virtual strangers to her right now.” He cleared his throat, suddenly looking rather sympathetic. “It would be best if we could get her into a treatment facility and meet with a psychiatrist as soon as possible.” He offered them a thin smile before making to leave. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Wait!” Donna called out, and the doctor halted before turning around. “Can we tell Jackie who we are?”

“Of course. We encourage you to fill in the missing pieces of her past, _gradually_ reintroduce herself to herself. It’s been known to facilitate the healing process and help the memories return sooner.” His expression turned grave. “But try not to bring up anything traumatic.”

They all nodded emphatically at this. None of them wanted to upset Jackie.

“Right. Thanks again, doctor.”

Once Dr Connors was out of earshot, Donna turned back towards the guys. “Nothing traumatic? We better not mention 1979 at all, then.”

“But that means no mention of Jackie dating me,” Fez said with a pout. “No fair!”

“I’ll tell her all about her wild love affair with me,” Kelso said with a smug smile. “Trying to picture me naked oughta bring all the memories flooding back.”

“Memories or nausea?” Eric gave his friend a disgusted look. “Cause I’m feeling the latter right now when trying to picture you naked.”

“Why are you even trying to picture him naked to begin with?” Donna asked her boyfriend.

“I have a vivid imagination that I can’t control, Donna. Sometimes it serves darker purposes.”

“I’m picturing him naked right now,” Fez said breathlessly. “It’s glorious.”

Kelso grinned. “I know, right?”

Donna just shook her head and walked back over to the seating area. “There is something seriously wrong with all of you.”

* * *

JACKIE HAD BEEN awake for almost an hour; lying in her hospital bed with nothing to do. It wasn’t as though she could do much in her current state. She was sore and groggy with sleep and the after-effects of the medication were still pumping through her system.

She felt trapped, caged. She couldn’t stay in this room any longer. She had to leave or at least do something. With no books or radio or television, she had begun counting the tiles on the ceiling. In no time she had figured out the cubic area of the entire room.

She did this because if she didn’t have her mind on numbers this terrible fear came over her. She’d have to think about other things, like why she couldn’t recall anything about her past or herself. That thought process would last all of five seconds, but then what was there after that? So the numbers mixed themselves up in her brain, offering her some measure relief, like a cool breeze on a sweltering hot day. After all, what else did she have to do?

“Jackie?”

“Ruby,” she corrected with faux sternness, as Dr Connors shunted open the privacy curtain.

She’d heard him approach before his hand even reached for the curtain, and her amused correction had resulted in a surprised smile from the older doctor. He had expected her to forget about her self-appointed name; clearly she hadn’t.

“ _Ruby_ ,” he amended, his grin widening, “you have visitors.”

She blinked rapidly in confusion and then winced at the glare of the hallway lights creeping into the room. Hell, even her eyes hurt now. “Is it the same guy from before?”

“What guy?”

“The guy who woke me up.”

“Oh, him.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure if he’s still here, but you have a bunch of friends waiting outside for you. They’ve been here for a while.”

Her bruised face contorted into a frown and she threaded her bottom lip with her teeth. It was odd, but she found herself rather disappointed that her mystery man wasn’t there to see her. Of course it shouldn’t have upset her the way it did since she couldn’t even remember what he looked like, but still... something about his absence bothered her.

“I guess I should see them.” She wrung her small hands together somewhat nervously. It wasn’t so much that she was apprehensive about meeting with strangers but that there would be absolutely no spark of recognition there—and that thought alone made her feel rather empty inside.

“Only if you want to,” the doctor said, but Jackie merely smiled at him and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

After all, what else did she have to do?

* * *


	7. Love Song

_19 February 1980_   
_Point Place, Wisconsin_   
_The Formans’ Driveway_

 

A PLUME OF smoke, impossibly fine and dainty, curled into his nostrils before he slowly exhaled. Hyde took another drag from his cigarette and the harsh orange light illuminated his face with a ghostly glow, the hollows of his cheeks highlighted for the world to see. A few ominous beats later and the embers at the tip all but died and disappeared; only darkness remained.

Hyde sat on the hood of the El Camino and listened to the radio with a grimace. Bon Scott had died earlier that morning—passed out after a night of heavy drinking at a London club called the Music Machine. The poor AC/DC lead singer had drunk himself to death. The radio DJ had called it ‘death by misadventure’. Another rock hero fallen to drugs and alcohol.

He had used to think that it’d be a great way to go. However, after seeing death up close, Hyde had changed his mind. Who wanted to be remembered as the guy who asphyxiated on his own vomit? Death had become far too fucking real for him these past few hours, and that foolish feeling of immortality that only came with youth was waning. His carefully constructed self-denial, however, was still alive and kicking.

Wanting to get away from it all, Hyde had driven straight back to Point Place after meeting up with the others at the hospital in Milwaukee. Donna and Fez had wanted to know more about Jackie’s condition, but he had just directed them to a nurse and left without saying a word. Donna had yelled at him as he walked away, but no one tried to stop him. He was tired and sick and he couldn’t stand to be there a minute longer, not with Jackie awake and asking for Fez. Hyde had poured his heart out to her and Fez was the one she had asked for. It figured.

 _Nothing left to worry about now_ , he told himself, taking another long drag from the cigarette.

Jackie was fine and awake. Well, maybe not entirely fine. The image of her small bruised body flashed through his mind and he winced with a cough. The memory surprised and hurt him in its clarity. She was no longer just some thought he could banish from his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

Fat snowflakes fell heavily from the darkening sky and he shook his head, trying to loosen them from his curls. Soon the entire driveway would be blanketed in snow and him with it. It was just his luck.

Hyde dropped his cigarette in the snow with a hiss and turned towards the basement. He could get on with his life now, he told himself. He had apologised, had made things right with Jackie again, at least in his mind. He’d worry about the real world consequences when the time came.

* * *

JACKIE SAT MOTIONLESS in the hospital bed, her eyes moving slowly from one corner of the wall to another. She waited for her visitors with nervous anticipation, a tension that settled in her back and shoulders and wreaked havoc with her trapezii.

Her arms hung limply at her sides and her fingers played with the thin sheets, her legs lying straight together with her toes pointed. She was neither cold nor warm, comfortable nor uncomfortable. She just _was_. She had assumed having no past would give her a sense of freedom, but it hadn’t really. It only left her feeling hollow inside.

Jackie unconsciously lifted a hand to her face, the needles tearing into her skin as she pulled taut. She patted a hand over her hair, finding the small bandaged patch just above her ear where the doctors had cut into her brain. She shuddered at the thought and her fingers quickly moved on, trembling through stringy, oily locks. She needed a shower, a good shampoo and conditioner.

Not so subtly turning her nose into her shoulder, Jackie inhaled. She smelled fine, no obvious odours. She must have been given a sponge bath while she was unconscious. The thought that someone had washed her body while she slept made her feel violated and dirty.

The distant sound of boots making contact with the floor drew her attention to the open door of her hospital room. She lowered her hand and listened, waiting. With her privacy curtain drawn back, she could plainly see her visitors enter the room. Four young adults—three guys and one tall girl—piled in through the door. Each was sporting his own badge of nervous apprehension.

Jackie followed them somewhat warily, trying to rack her brain for a memory or some vague recollection of the four people walking towards her, but nothing came. The tall blonde girl (another blonde?) was standing beside an equally tall but rather skinny guy with an average face and pleasant disposition. He and the blonde were attempting to greet Jackie with their awkward smiles, pretending that they were excited to be there.

She inwardly sighed. Well, at least they were trying.

The shorter, darker boy, who appeared to be of the Latin persuasion, looked despondent and guilty, while the tall and impossibly handsome man holding a blue balloon was wearing an expression that could have been labelled as blissfully ignorant. He also just so happened to be the first one to speak.

“Wow, Jackie, you look really bad!”

She gaped at the pretty boy for half a second. First surprise washed over her face, then confusion, then thinly veiled contempt. Each emotion shifted so quickly that not even a trained eye could have spotted them. Her face remained impassive after that, but her mind was reeling and whirling. Who the hell did this guy think he was, the ‘looks police’? Of course she looked bad—she had been in a car accident! _Idiot_.

“Kelso!” the blonde hissed, her hand snapping out to slap the pretty boy upside his head.

Jackie couldn’t help but mentally thank the girl, wishing she could have done the same.

“What?” he whined, rubbing his head before pointing at Jackie. “This is worse than the time she was sick and I saw her with no makeup on!”

“Kelso!”

“God! What is it, Donna?”

“You’re suffering from that condition again?” she growled.

“What condition?”

“The one where your mouth is open and words are coming out.”

“Uh, it’s called _talking_ , Donna!” He dramatically rolled his eyes and turned to the guys for support. “And _she’s_ the smart one of the group?”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” the skinny man added wistfully, earning a reproachful look from the blonde whose name, Jackie had figured out, was Donna.

They continued to bicker and Jackie could only watch the exchange with carefully concealed wonderment.

“Kelso, my friend,” the foreign man said with a slight lisp, “I adore you, but you are an idiot.”

“What? What!”

“Sorry about that, Jackie,” Donna apologised with a sheepish grin. She shot Kelso with what Jackie assumed was her patented ‘shut-your-trap-before-I-shut-it-for-you’ glare.

“It’s fine,” she said, plastering a fake smile on her face.

She had thought to correct the blonde and make her and the others call her Ruby, but that would’ve just been too weird; not that any of this wasn’t weird enough to begin with. Ruby was the name she had given herself and she didn’t want to share it with anyone else quite yet. They could call her Jackie, even though that name meant nothing to her.

“So, uhm, we’re your friends.” Donna laughed and then jabbed her thumb in the handsome yet impossibly stupid young man’s direction. “That’s Kelso, _the idiot_ , and I’m Donna you’re, uh, best friend.” She glanced furtively at the foreign boy, who gave her a small smile and a double thumbs up of encouragement.

Jackie watched the exchange with a frown but mustered a semi-genuine smile. “Hi, Donna.” _Best friend, huh?_

The skinny boy, who had been standing behind the blonde, stepped towards Jackie’s bed. “Hi, I’m Eric, the Luke Skywalker to your Darth Vader.”

Everyone groaned at this while Jackie’s brow furrowed in deep thought. “So, I’m... evil?”

“Hey, you remember the movie?” His face lit up like a Christmas tree. “That’s so awesome!” He began gesturing excitedly with his hands. “Okay, that was a not-so-accurate analogy. I’m more like the Obi Wan to your Darth—”

“Eric!”

The skinny guy tried to look contrite and then waved. “Hi, I’m Eric.”

Jackie couldn’t help but smile at the awkward bundle of limbs. It was obvious that Donna and Eric were close. “Hi, Eric.”

“Hello, Jackie.” The dark-skinned young man in tight clothing stepped towards her now. “I am your boyfriend, Fez.”

“Fez?” She tried to wrap her head around the name. She then not so subtly looked him up and down with a curious yet reproachful gaze. “You’re my _boyfriend_?”

“Fez, didn’t you break up with Jackie before she got into her accident?” Kelso asked, earning a monstrous glare from his foreign friend.

“Shut up, you sonuvabitch! She didn’t need to know that!”

Jackie lifted a curious eyebrow at this.

“Hi, I’m Michael Kelso,” the handsome boy said in what he most likely assumed was a seductive voice. “We used to do it, _a lot_. Yeah—” he leaned back, hooking his thumbs into the front loops of his jeans “—you pretty much worshipped the ground I walked on.”

Jackie eyed him sceptically. Seriously, the audacity of this guy.

“Sure I did,” she muttered.

However, her tone didn’t seem to register with the pretty boy, whose grin only widened with unfounded ego.

“But that was before you traded down and got all ugly.”

“KELSO!”

“Ow! Donna! Eric! _Fez_!” Kelso rubbed the back of his smarting head after his friends each took turns hitting him. “What the hell, guys!” They all glared at him and he finally offered Jackie a somewhat reproachful look. “Sorry, Jackie, I meant before you got all bruised and gross.”

Donna’s hand snapped out again.

“Donna, seriously!” he shrieked, cupping the back of his head. “It’s starting to hurt!”

“Good!” She glared at the lanky idiot before folding her arms beneath her breasts. She turned her attention back to Jackie, who was repressing the urge to smirk. “So the doctor said we should fill you in on your past, help trigger your memories and such.”

“Yeah, I could tell you a few stories about you, me and Pink Floyd doing the horizontal mambo,” Kelso injected, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “If you know what I mean.”

“No one wants to know what you mean!” Donna spat, shoving Kelso away. “Eric, could you?”

The skinny young man nodded and grabbed Kelso by the arm. “I’m on it.” After a few short tugs, he began dragging Kelso towards the door. “No one wants to hear about you and your Apollo Rocket of Love.”

“I was going to ease into that!”

“There’s no easing into _that_!” Eric said with disgust, before glancing over at Jackie apologetically. “Sorry, he’s been over-stimulated; he’s had too much caffeine.” He inclined his head. “See ya later, Jackie.”

“See ya.”

“But I only had like five, _eight_ cups of coffee!” Kelso complained loudly when they were both out the door, the blue balloon escaping down the hallway. “Man, I have to pee again.” His face popped back inside the door frame. “BYE, JACKIE!” Then, “MY BALLOON!”

Eric’s hands reached out and found purchase on Kelso’s neck, yanking him away with a strangled yelp. Jackie observed the commotion with a blank expression, though a faint flutter of amusement tickled her stomach. It felt as if she had just witnessed a bizarrely-acted play.

Were these really her friends? Did she really date that pretty boy idiot and the foreigner with better hair that her? Oh God, speaking of hair—how much had the doctors shave off? They hadn’t let her see herself in a mirror yet.

“Is he normally that... exuberant?” she asked, trying to take her mind off her hair or possible lack thereof. She had no idea why her current appearance bothered her so much. Maybe it was the fact that the pretty boy had managed to insult her a dozen times in under sixty seconds.

“No,” Fez said with a slow shake of his head, “he’s usually much louder and much stupider.”

“Really?” Jackie couldn’t help but snort.

Donna and Fez quietly echoed her snigger and, after a few seconds, there was nothing left to laugh about. Awkward silence filled the room and marooned them with unease. It was almost amusing to recognise that Kelso’s idiocy and Eric’s geek talk actually made this meeting somewhat bearable, if not entertaining. Now with them gone, the situation had become slightly uncomfortable.

After a few torturous moments, Jackie decided to break the silence with the only real question that had been plaguing her mind since she woke up.

“Say, uhm, this might be a weird question, but do either of you know the guy who was with me when I woke up?”

Donna and Fez furrowed their brows and exchanged nervous but knowing glances. Silence once more hung thick and honeyed in the air, and Jackie frowned. Why were they acting so uneasy and obtuse? It was a simple question; either they knew or they didn’t.

“Uh, yeah, that was Hyde,” Donna admitted after a moment, scratching the back of her head. “Do you remember him?”

_Hyde, huh?_

“No.” Jackie laughed softly. “I don’t even remember what he looks like. I just—” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

_I wanted to see him; to say thanks for waking me up, for being there, for helping make things not so scary. I don’t know why but I just wanted to see him._

“I was only curious.”

“Well, Hyde had to go back to work,” Donna said, and then added quickly, “but I’m sure he’ll come by and visit you later.” She met Fez’s eye and the foreign man scowled at her, as if to ask her who she was kidding.

Jackie’s frown deepened. Did this Hyde guy not like her or something? If so, that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. He was the one who sat with her when she woke up, held her hand and fetched the doctor. Why was he so unwilling to visit her in the hospital with the rest of his friends?

Suddenly Jackie felt very frustrated and very tired. More aptly put, she just wanted to be left alone.

“Listen, I know you guys have been waiting a long time to see me and I know you want to help—filling me in on my past and all that—and I’d really like to get my memories back, but...” She trailed off, shifting uncomfortably on the bed and wincing as she turned.

“Oh!” Donna was instantly at her side, fumbling with unsure hands. “Are you in pain? Should I get the doctor?”

“I’m fine.” Jackie tried to reassure Donna, but the blonde looked far from convinced. “Really, I’m okay. Nothing to alert the doctor about. Sure I’m in a little pain, but I’m mostly tired.” She let out a protracted sigh. “I’ve spent nearly five days in a coma and all I want to do is sleep. Go figure, right?”

Donna smiled sadly. “I guess it’s your brain’s way of getting your body to heal.” She glanced over at Fez and then waved her hand dismissively. “No, we totally understand. We want you to get better, so we’ll just leave you to your rest. We—we’ll be back later, _tomorrow_.”

“Sounds great.” Jackie offered them a thin smile that barely veiled her pain. “Thank you. It was nice to meet you two. Donna and Fez, right?” They both nodded stiffly, identical awkward expressions lingering on their faces. “Say thanks to the other two for me, will you?”

“Will do.” Donna lifted her hand in a wave, as did Fez. “Bye, Jackie. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Jackie. Rest well.”

“Bye.”

Jackie watched them leave. Their voices quieted and their footsteps echoing down the empty hallway until she could hear them no more. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep to take her, but it wouldn’t come. Sleep didn’t easily come to those who were empty, to those who were lost.

There was a void inside her now, like something was missing—more than her memories, more than her past. It was a feeling, like a familiar song playing deep inside her, but she could no longer remember the words. It was a sodden heaviness of sadness that weighed down her limbs so that she couldn’t move. It was like drowning while knowing that her lifeline was nearby, ready to save her.

He only had to find her first...

* * *

THE EVENING SNOWSTORM had already moved south, leaving crystallised snowflakes frozen on the Formans’ veranda window. Moonlight peeked out from behind the fast-moving clouds, throwing shadows on the porch and lighting a faint path. The sound of men grumbling and stomping their feet on aged wood was muffled by the thick glass.

Red and Hyde set their shovels against the siding and entered though the kitchen, taking off their boots at the door.

“Well, that was Jack Burkhart calling from jail,” Kitty said with her nervous signature laugh as she hung up the phone. “He’s agreed to release Jackie’s trust fund to her—to pay for her medical bills and such.”

“Is that so?” Red grunted, taking off his coat and picking up his boots before his wife snapped at him for tracking snow and mud onto her clean kitchen floor. “Jack comes through with the money as opposed to actual parenting like usual.”

“Well, he’s better than Pam, who still hasn’t bothered to return my calls.” Kitty let out a frustrated sigh as she watched her husband and foster son traipse across the kitchen floor. They deposited their wet boots and coats near the basement door.

“So Pam knows her daughter’s in the hospital and hasn’t bothered to find out where she is?” Red asked, returning to the kitchen table while Hyde grabbed a soda from the fridge.

“Mhm.”

“Fucking typical,” Hyde muttered, popping off the bottle cap.

“Steven, language!” Kitty admonished, and Hyde attempted to look contrite.

“Sorry, Mrs Forman.”

“What I want to know is how Jack even has this money,” Red said. “Shouldn’t Jackie’s trust have been seized by the federal government when Jack was arrested for embezzling?”

“The trust was set up by Jackie’s grandmother, not her father,” Kitty explained. “And since it was left for Jackie when she turned twenty-one, neither Jack nor Pam could get their hands on it.”

“How’s Jackie getting it now?” Hyde took a sip of his cream soda. “She’s not twenty-one.”

“Jack is the trustee,” Kitty said. “He was able to get the lawyers to wave the age limit and grant her the money early.” Kitty rocked on her heels. “Plus, it turns out Jackie’s grandmother had a ‘pour-over’ will, which transferred other assets to the trust, and now Jackie has quite the sizeable estate, more than her father ever had.”

“Wow.” Hyde leaned against the counter with a grunt. It looked like Jackie was going to be rich again—or richer. He wasn’t sure what to think of this.

“Good for her,” Red said dispassionately, picking up the already-read morning’s paper. “At least she’s getting something out of this.”

“I agree,” Kitty sing-songed, skipping over to the stove to turn it on.

Just as she began to prepare a late supper, Donna and Eric came in through the veranda, tracking in snow as they entered. Red was about to yell at them to take their wet boots and coats to the living room when Eric waved tiredly.

“Hey, we’re back!”

“We can see that.” Red lowered his newspaper with a scowl. “You two dumbasses are tracking snow onto your mother’s clean floor.”

“Oops, sorry.” Donna sheepishly reached down to take off her boots and Eric did the same. They both carried their boots into the living room to set down.

Kitty snapped off the stove and took off after her son and his girlfriend, eager for news about Jackie. Red and Hyde sighed heavily, setting down their respective paper and soda before following Kitty out into the living room. Both knew she would only drag them out there if they didn’t come.

“Where’s Fez and Kelso, man?” Hyde wasn’t about to ask the obvious like Mrs Forman wanted to.

“They’re back at Fez’s place.” Donna hung up her jacket and stumbled towards the couch. She looked ready to collapse. “We’re all pretty beat from the driving and the waiting.”

“How’s Jackie?” Red asked gruffly, feeling his wife practically vibrate at his side. He didn’t need her firing off a bunch of medical questions that those two dumbasses clearly couldn’t field.

“Yeah, about that...” Eric paused, sharing a wary glance with his girlfriend, who was rolling up her sleeves as though she was getting ready to deliver a baby (or bad news).

“What is it, honey?” Kitty asked.

Hyde felt an uneasy, piercing pain in his gut.

“Eric, remember what I said about breaking this to them gently?” Donna murmured, shooting Hyde a significant look.

“Donna, _relax_ ,” Eric said. “I can handle this.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, so anyone here who _doesn’t_ have an amnesiac for an ex-girlfriend, take a step back—wait, not so fast, Hyde.”

“What?” Hyde looked confused at first, then angry. “What the hell are you talking about, Forman?”

“Smooth, Eric.” Donna palmed her face. “ _Real_ smooth.”

“Jackie has amnesia?” Kitty brought her hands to her mouth in a gasp. “Let’s go, Red!” She was already turning back towards the kitchen.

“But I just got home! What about dinner?”

“I want to talk to Jackie’s doctor!”

“Can’t we go after dinner? It’s not like she’s going anywhere.”

Kitty plastered an angry smile on her face. “We’ll get something to eat in Milwaukee, Red Forman.”

“Fine.” He fastened his own disgruntled smile and obliged his wife. Once Kitty was out of the living room, Red turned an angry finger on his son and his friends. “You kids never stop interrupting my peace.”

Once Kitty and Red were gone, Donna and Eric slumped down on the sofa. Hyde took the chair closest to the living room; the one he always used to sit in with Jackie nestled in his lap. He brought his fingers to his tired eyes, lifting up his aviators, and rubbed.

“She’s really got amnesia, man?” It was like a frigging soap opera scenario. He didn’t quite believe it.

“Yeah.”

Hyde lowered his hand and his eyebrows came together in thought. “But, I could’ve sworn—” He stopped himself and shifted slightly in his seat. Donna and Forman didn’t need to know what he thought. He didn’t even know what he thought.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged, slipping back into Zen. It was all so bizarre. Jackie had no idea who she was, who anyone was, who _he_ was. He thought back to what she had said when she had woken up: _where is he?_ Had she really been asking for Fez?

“I feel so bad for Jackie,” Donna said. “Not knowing who she is, who anyone else is. She’s all alone.”

Eric snaked his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. “She has us—” he briefly glanced over at his best friend “—sorta.”

“Well, at least she isn’t poor anymore,” Hyde said, leaning back in the chair.

“What do you mean?” Donna asked.

“Her dad released her trust fund.”

“She has a trust?” Donna brought her fingers to her lips in surprise. “I don’t think she even knew.” Her shoulders relaxed. “Well, that’s something at least.”

“I was wondering how she was going to pay her hospital bills,” Eric said. “I thought we were going to have to pimp out Kelso.”

Hyde smirked.

Donna suddenly clapped her hands together as another thought came to mind. “Jackie can have her therapy now!”

“Therapy?” Hyde’s brow creased in confusion. “Physical therapy?”

“Yeah, that too. The doctor also recommended she see a psychiatrist for her amnesia. Apparently her condition might be psychological.”

“Huh.”

“So, are you coming to the hospital with us tomorrow?”

Hyde glanced over at Forman and shrugged indifferently. “What for? It’s not like she’ll recognise me.”

“Yeah, but maybe you should be there anyway,” Eric suggested. “The doctor said we should try to remind her of her past.”

“But nothing traumatic,” Donna added, directing a rather nasty glare Hyde’s way, “which rules _you_ out.”

“Exactly.” Hyde folded his arms across his barrelled chest. “There’s no point in me going.”

“No point?” Donna shot up in her seat. “Hyde, don’t be such a dillhole! What are you gonna tell her when she gets her memories back?”

“Who says she’s gonna get ’em back?”

“I-I—” She grasped for words. “Well, what if she does? What are you gonna say? _There was no point?_ That’s real nice, Hyde.” She thrust a finger at him. “Well, here’s a point for you: you could try being a friend to Jackie for once!”

“Jackie and I aren’t friends,” he said, careful to mask his features so that they were devoid of emotion. “We never were.”

“God!” Donna slapped her palms against her thighs in barely suppressed rage. “You are such an asshole!”

She tore up the stairs, presumably to Eric’s room. When the door slammed shut, Eric winced. Donna was pissed, pissed off at Hyde. But Donna was a woman, and when she was pissed at someone—someone who did not even have to be him—she was pissed off at the world. He definitely wasn’t getting lucky tonight, and it was all thanks to his delightfully cheery and supportive best friend.

“That went well.” He sighed, examining the curly-haired rebel sitting on the chair. Donna was right: Hyde was being an asshole. But Eric knew Hyde and he knew the Zen act was just that, an act. “So—” he tapped a beat on his knees “—how many bodies did you have to identify?”

Hyde barely moved his lips. “Two.”

Awkward silence ensued. Maybe this wasn’t the best way to go about getting his friend to open up. So Eric wisely decided to avoid the obvious seven-tonne elephant in the room and subtly moved onto the five-hundred pound gorilla.

“It was really weird seeing Jackie in that hospital bed, man. She looked so tiny and fragile, like she might break at any moment.” He twiddled his thumbs together. “I still can’t believe she has amnesia, although it does make a lot sense. She didn’t once call me twitchy or skinny or geeky or a twitchy skinny geek boy. In fact, she was super quiet, barely talked.”

“Hmm.”

Eric frowned. Nothing. No emotional response. Zen was in full activation mode. It was time to switch tactics.

“Hey, you were there with her when she woke up. Did she say anything to you?”

“Nope.” Hyde turned away, lowering his elbows. After a moment, he spoke, “So, she really doesn’t remember anything?”

“Nope.” Eric popped the P for emphasis. “The doctor gave us a big speech about it, too. He still doesn’t know if Jackie’s amnesia is structural or psychological—or whatever he called it. He used a lot of five-dollar words.”

“Yeah, doctors’ll do that.”

“Right, I mean who calls a bruise a haematoma?” He shook his head in disgust. “Doctors and their fancy words. They make me feel like Kelso.”

Hyde snorted softly and Eric stole a glance. It was time to test the proverbial waters.

“Yeah, so the doctor said Jackie was pretty lucky. Aside from the head injury, she came away with only a few scratches and bruises and some broken ribs. Could have been a lot worse, especially if she stayed longer in the coma. Risk of permanent brain injury and all that.”

Hyde didn’t respond, didn’t even nod his head, although Eric was almost certain he saw his friend stiffen, if only for a second. Still, Hyde was not emoting the way he wanted him to. It was time to pull out the big guns.

“Turns out she almost died.”

“She _what_?” Hyde turned to face Eric completely.

“Yeah, before we left, a nurse told us Jackie had flat-lined a few days ago—early Sunday, I think.” He cocked his head to the side in a contemplative manner. “They still don’t know why. I guess that’s why they needed her medical history so badly. Don’t know if it did any good, though.”

Hyde’s mouth curved downwards. “Sunday, huh?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged, a slight rise and fall of his shoulders, before pushing his sunglasses up his nose.

Eric’s eyes narrowed, spotting the minuscule chink in Hyde’s armour, and pressed his advantage. “You should come with us tomorrow,” he said, making sure it sounded like a suggestion as opposed to an order or an obligation. “Even if it’s just to say hi.”

“I don’t say _hi_.” He settled back into the chair. “I don’t do small talk.”

“Small talk is all you do, man. That and grunting.”

“Hmm.”

“Exactly! Just like that!”

“Forman—”

“Just visit once. Say _something_ to her, man.”

His jaw clenched. “I’ve already said everything I needed to say to Jackie.”

Eric exhaled sharply. He’d be the first to admit that he never understood Jackie’s appeal or why his best friend sought out the annoying girl at the cost of his childhood friendship with Kelso, especially when Jackie Burkhart represented everything Steven Hyde loathed and repudiated. But Hyde had chosen Jackie, had fully accepted—nay, revelled in their creepy and unnatural relationship. Sure, he still bitched about her shallowness and pushiness, but he had been happy. Happy-happy, not that bullshit he spouted about being less pissed off.

Jackie had brought out the best in Hyde, had brought sunshine into his orphan boy heart. Yes, Hyde had been happy, maybe for the first time in his life, and now he was downright miserable and didn’t have the balls to admit it.

“Whatever, man!” Eric jumped to his feet. “I don’t know what’s happened to you since I left, but it’s like you’re a whole other person now. The Hyde I knew was always there for Jackie, even when he didn’t want to be. He took her to the prom, knocked out guys who called her names, took her out on dates, let her cry on his shoulder when Kelso messed up, when her parents abandoned her...

“That Hyde would never be such a dick to her like you are now, especially not with how things are for Jackie. It’s just—it’s just not cool, man!” Frustrated, Eric pointed an accusing finger at his best friend. “You’re not cool, man, and you had better get your head out of your ass and get your act together soon!”

Turning on his heel, Eric stalked off and bounded up the stairs in suppressed rage, much like how Donna had earlier. Except Eric’s anger actually affected Hyde.

Once Eric was out of sight, the bedroom door slamming shut behind him, Hyde took off his aviators and leaned forward. Holding his head in his hands, he sighed—the tired ‘I’m-too-old-for-this-shit’ kind of sigh.

He was conflicted with emotion. On one hand, he was impressed that his best friend had mustered the nerve to speak against him the way he did. It was apparent that Forman’s trip to Africa had manned him up a bit. On the other hand, he was angry—angry because he couldn’t argue a damn point Forman had made.

He was right, and fuck it all if Hyde didn’t know what to do about it—about any of it anymore.

* * *


	8. I Wanna Be Sedated

_10 March 1980_  
_Milwaukee, Wisconsin_  
_Sacred Heart Rehabilitation Institute_  
_Columbia St Mary’s Hospital_

 

JACKIE WISHED SHE could say she had some interesting experiences during her two-week stint at Sacred Heart, but that would be a bald-faced lie. Aside from meeting fellow brain-injured patients like herself, the majority of her time was spent reading, listening to music and staring at the walls—oh, and rehabilitating her body and mind, and not the fun way with the euphoric mellow of Demerol.

She had suffered through pain medication withdrawal and detox, physiotherapy and daily sessions with Dr Keeton, the resident psychiatrist. The latter, however, was the worst sort of torture to endure.

Carefully lying on her stomach, Jackie turned the page to her book. A shadow fell across the open doorway and a tall brunette on crutches poked her head inside.

“Hey, Ruby!”

“Chloe!”

Jackie shifted uncomfortably on the bed and stabbing pain shot up her ribs. Even with the cushioned bindings, her entire upper torso felt like a piñata someone had taken a bat to. She really shouldn’t have been lying on her stomach to begin with, but the constant sitting and resting on her back for three weeks had driven her stir-crazy, along with the tedium of therapy. The mind-numbing boredom was one of the reasons she read so much.

Chloe eventually hobbled into her room then and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She set her crutches against the wall and leaned forward, dark grey eyes peeking out through a curtain of straight honey-brown hair.

Chloe Stevenson was a rather cheery girl, despite her condition. She had been at Sacred Heart for a little over a month before Jackie arrived and, like Jackie, was also a brain injury patient. Unlike Jackie, the twenty-two-year-old Chloe was an out-bound patient who had suffered far more extensive injuries than Jackie’s, including a broken tibia.

“Whatchya reading?” she asked, peering over Jackie’s shoulder. “The Edible Woman?” She made a face. “Sounds gross.”

Jackie merely shrugged in response and turned the page. Chloe was an okay girl in small doses, but Jackie preferred her books over asinine questions—the kind that were posed and repeated almost every single day.

Of course it wasn’t entirely Chloe’s fault. She was suffering from a malfunctioning short-term memory known as anterograde amnesia, which meant she had difficulties retaining new memories while her long-term memory remained relatively intact. Unlike Jackie, Chloe hadn’t incurred her amnesia through a traumatic event but rather through the abuse of psychotropic drugs, such as LSD and acid. Her current injuries were an indirect result of her amnesia: she’d had a seizure while driving and steered her vehicle into a highway divider.

Okay, so maybe it was a little her fault.

“Where did you get all these books?”

It hadn’t been the first time Chloe had asked that question and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The books were a gift from her ‘friend’ Donna, who had brought them on one of her visits. However, explaining who Donna was all over again, as well as Jackie’s own condition, wasn’t something she felt like rehashing with Chloe at the moment, so she lied.

“Dr Keeton.”

“Oh, right.” Chloe nodded, absently examining her nails. “He’s tried to give me a few books, too. Like I’ll be able to retain anything.” She snorted. “Do you have an appointment with him today?”

“Mhm.” Jackie had an appointment with him every day.

“He’s so weird,” Chloe mused aloud. “All those pointless questions he asks.”

Jackie nodded. She couldn’t have agreed more. Dr Keeton’s questions were indeed pointless and asinine. She couldn’t answer most of them, which frustrated her to no end.

“So, where are you gonna go when you’re released?”

Jackie paused, slipping her finger between the pages as a bookmark. She didn’t quite know how to answer that question. Donna had told her that her father was in jail and her mother was off somewhere in Mexico or Cuba—they didn’t know where—and she had no real family to speak of. Her grandmother had left her some money, which paid for her medical bills and such, and apparently she had enough to live wherever she wanted quite comfortably. The problem was that she didn’t know _where_ she wanted to go or what she wanted to do—only that she wanted to leave this hospital; yesterday.

“Right, you’re rich!” Chloe smacked her forehead. “I guess it doesn’t matter where you go. My parents, on the other hand, want to send me Rancho Los Amigos, but I’m gonna to see if I can convince them to let me go to a holistic retreat.”

“Rancho Los Amigos?”

“Yeah, it’s this hospital in California.” She furrowed her brow in deep thought. “Uh, for brain injuries and stuff.”

“Hmm.”

A pained expression crossed Chloe’s features as she tried to recall the purpose of the hospital and how it linked to neurological disorders, but it wasn’t coming any time soon. Jackie was impressed the girl even knew how to pronounce Rancho Los Amigos or knew what holistic meant, but those must have been names and information she had retained before her psychedelic trip. In fact, she remembered Chloe telling her that she had once qualified as a chemist.

How was that for irony?

Just to be able to form coherent sentences often took a lot of effort on Chloe’s part. And as much as she annoyed Jackie with her incessant questions and forgetfulness, Jackie couldn’t help but identify with her, even if just a little. While Jackie had her short-term memory intact, her long-term memory was gone. She knew that feeling of frustration—of trying to recall something lost, something that wouldn’t come back no matter how hard she tried.

“Yeah, but it’s all boring medical stuff like this place, y’know.” Chloe motioned to their surroundings with a shrug. “I’d like to try out the New Age approach. Some yoga, some meditation, some herbal therapy—if you know what I mean.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “There’s this retreat in Oregon. I can’t remember the name of it, but I have a brochure in my room. It’s got hot springs!”

She sounded really excited, but Jackie merely lifted a brow in contemplation. Maybe a retreat wouldn’t be so bad. She could use some alternative therapy. The sessions with Dr Keeton weren’t at all successful in retrieving her memories. Plus, Oregon was a far more reasonable driving distance than California, which was a comforting thought considering she had recently discovered that she had a fear of flying. This discovery had come about during a session with Dr Keeton (so maybe something good had come out of his therapy).

No overseas living for Ruby Tuesday (née Jackie Burkhart), unless she was taking a boat. But even then she wasn’t entirely sure how well she’d fare on the sea.

“So where are you going?” Chloe asked again, and Jackie shrugged.

“Probably back to Point Place for a bit and then figure it out from there.”

“Cool, cool.” Chloe shakily stood up, reaching for her crutches. “Well, I’m gonna go grab something to eat and head on to physio. I’ll leave you to your reading. Bye-bye.”

“Bye.”

* * *

JACKIE FINISHED READING _The Edible Woman_ just before two o’clock. Shortly thereafter, a beep went off on her nightstand. She sat up and turned off the alarm with a grunt.

Dr Keeton had insisted that she set her alarm for every doctor’s appointment as a reminder. She found the idea tedious and somewhat patronising. She didn’t have short-term memory loss like the others, so it wasn’t like she had to be reminded. But then Dr Keeton knew she didn’t like going to her sessions. The alarm was probably more of a conditioning experiment than a reminder.

Slowly sloughing off the bed, Jackie grabbed a grey cardigan and pulled it on with a grumble. She set her book flat on her nightstand, hoping the page would keep. She’d really have to invest in a bookmark at some point, rather than ruining the spine or dog-earring the pages.

Cinching the belt securely about her waist, Jackie stepped outside her room and closed the door behind her, just in case Chloe decided to be nosy and snoop in her room.

“Hi, Mrs Gruben.”

She greeted her next door neighbour with a small wave and the elderly woman smiled. Mrs Gruben was a stout woman with short but carefully dressed white hair. She reminded Jackie of Beatrice Arthur from _Maude_. Funny how she could remember characters from television shows but not people from her own life.

“Hello.” The elderly woman was looking up at her with kind yet confused rheumatic blue eyes. “Do I know you, dear?”

“I’m Ruby, you’re next door neighbour.”

“Oh.” The woman’s eyes failed to light up with recognition, but she feigned it out of politeness for Jackie’s sake. “It’s nice to meet you, Ruby. I’m Gladys Gruben.” She extended a wrinkled hand and Jackie took it with a gentle shake.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Gruben.”

“Please, call me Gladys.”

Jackie’s own feigned smile widened almost painfully and she let go of the old woman’s hand, motioning to the corridor. “Well, I’ve gotta go meet with the doctor now.”

“Which doctor?”

“Dr Keeton.”

Mrs Gruben nodded, though she didn’t seem to understand. Still, politeness was mandatory—a habit the old woman had not forgot. “You take care, dear.”

“I will.” Jackie’s smile waned. “You have a good day, Mrs Gruben.”

The two parted ways and Jackie began her leisurely stroll towards Dr Keeton’s office. This wasn’t the first introductory conversation she’d had with Mrs Gruben, and it wouldn’t be the last. They’d have the exact same conversation when Jackie returned to her room. Such were the joys of rehabilitating at the Brain Injury ward at Sacred Heart.

Still, Jackie couldn’t help but feel sorry for the elderly woman, like how she felt bad for Chloe. As annoying as Jackie’s condition was—how frustrating and lonely it could be—she wasn’t sure how she could handle not being able to retain her recent memories, to go through life forgetting everything and everyone.

She continued down the hall with her hands dug deep in her jeans pockets. Her expression was blank, giving no real clue as to what she was thinking. In plain truth she wasn’t really thinking about anything. She catalogued each passer-by with a casual glance, but that was when her mind actually began its reeling and whirling.

No one really seemed to look at Jackie to _see_ her. This was somewhat comforting since it meant she could fly under the radar. But she soon found herself scrutinising those strangers, trying to peek underneath the masks they wore. Everyone wore masks, she realised. Everyone tried to hide their feeling and who they truly were; everyone except Jackie. She wore no mask, for she had nothing to hide.

Lost in thought, Jackie was only vaguely aware that she had arrived at Dr Keeton’s office. She stared at the door and suddenly it opened. An elderly gentleman advanced a few steps towards her with a briefcase in hand. He smiled genially at her and stepped to the side, allowing Jackie to look inside the office.

Dr Keeton, a rather handsome man in his early forties with sandy blond hair and a tiny Errol Flynn moustache, smiled and waved at her to enter.

“C’mon in, Jackie.”

“Ruby,” she corrected coldly, before stepping inside.

Dr Keeton just smiled at her, patiently and politely.

 _Here we go again_ , she thought to herself with a grimace, and closed the door behind her.

* * *

“FLAMES WERE GOLFING, man!” Kelso’s hands waved spasmodically in the air. “Golfing everywhere!”

Hyde’s shoulders shook with repressed laughter as Kelso recounted the colourful tale of his latest workplace volition: burning down the dance floor at the nudie bar he ran security for.

“It’s good to have you back, man.”

“It’s great to be back!” Kelso grinned and then pumped a fist triumphantly in the air. “Alright! Four-day weekend!”

“It is no four-day weekend for me, you sonuvabitch!” Fez pouted, clutching a brown paper bag in his hands. “So no keeping me up tonight or I will smother you in your sleep!”

“I can always stay with Donna.” Kelso waggled his eyebrows and jumped down onto the seat next to her. “How about it, Big D? Can I stay at your place?”

“Place? It’s the tiniest bachelor apartment known to man.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “And you’re not staying, Kelso.”

“Dammit!”

“You can stay with me, my friend,” Fez said, reaching over to pat Kelso’s knee. “I am just being grumpy because I am so alone and lonely and only have candy to fulfil my needs.” He exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “Candy is a poor but yummy substitute for affection.”

Everyone sat back, looking a mite uncomfortable with their foreign friend and his needs, especially when he was cradling that mysterious brown paper bag so lovingly.

“So how’s the roommate fishing going?” Eric asked, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere; somewhere less creepy.

“Eh, a few nibbles.” Fez shrugged dispassionately. “But I sort of feel bad renting out Jackie’s room. Where will she stay?”

“Jackie’s rich now,” Kelso said excitedly, pulling a lollipop from out of his pocket and unwrapping the cover. “She can live wherever she wants, man. Like in a castle or something.”

“Kelso—” Donna sucked in a deep breath “—there are no castles in Point Place or the United States for that matter—not real ones, anyway.”

“Yeah, well,” he floundered, discarding the plastic wrap. “My point is that she can live wherever she wants now, fictional or otherwise.”

“Like Candy Land?”

“Fez, we’ve talked about this,” Donna interrupted. “Candy Land isn’t real.”

“But Kelso just said—”

“Fez, we’ve talked about this, too,” Eric interjected. “No countering an argument by using Kelso’s word as proof.”

Fez bowed his head in defeat. “I am just sad that Jackie will probably want to live somewhere else—not with me.”

Hyde shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Fez was getting soppy again and he could handle only so many emotions coming from the foreigner at once. Just a few minutes ago they were all having some fun with Kelso back for the weekend and now the conversation had veered towards Jackie. Why did it always come back to her?

“Hey, so how’s school going, Big D?” he asked Donna, hoping to change the topic.

“Yes, having fun matriculating with your fellow feminists?” Eric waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and she playfully frogged him in the arm.

Donna was attending the Parkside campus for the University of Wisconsin. She had planned to transfer to Madison with Eric for the Spring-Summer term once his scholarship was cleared. Although Parkside was still a lot of fun, she had to admit. It was nice to live in the city and experience campus life. Plus, she and Eric had their own private room whenever he came to visit.

“Courses are going well,” she said, knowing full-well that this was Hyde’s way of steering the conversation away from Jackie. The dillhole still hadn’t gone to visit her in the hospital, let alone the rehabilitation centre, and she wasn’t about to forget or forgive him for that. “Though I can’t wait until Eric gets his scholarship, so we can transfer to Madison together.”

“Yes, the scholarship,” Eric said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

He had left Africa earlier than intended; however, the program still offered him a partial scholarship. He had yet to hear from Mr Green, though, the director of the Teach Abroad program, and he had been playing phone hockey with the Dean of Admission and Financial Aid since early January.

“You’re gonna have to introduce me to your hot college friends,” Kelso said to Donna.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

“What, are you embarrassed by me?”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Now I know you’re lying.” Kelso waved his lollipop at her. “I’ll have you know all the ladies love me.”

“So is that why Jackie keeps asking me to tell you not to visit her anymore?”

Hyde couldn’t help but grin at this. At least amnesia Jackie had some sense. He had heard about Kelso dogging Jackie on her looks after the accident, and he was glad to hear she hadn’t put up with his bullshit. Hyde almost wished he had been there to see it.

Almost.

“Yeah, Jackie’s so not hot anymore,” Kelso whined, before stretching his long legs out underneath the table.

“Kelso!” Donna looked ready to smack their dumb-witted friend upside his head. “She was in a car accident!”

“No, that’s not it.” He shifted away from Donna. “She’s still physically hot. It’s just—Jackie’s not Jackie anymore. She doesn’t yell or order me around anymore. Whenever I’m there, all she does is read or listen to music or tell me to go away.”

“It is strange not to hear Jackie’s shrill voice,” Fez agreed lamentably. “My bitchy goddess is gone.”

“Exactly,” Kelso said. “Her bitchy hotness is gone.”

Hyde crossed his arms over his chest, drumming his fingers on his left bicep. He had no idea why or what he was annoyed about exactly, but this constant talk of Jackie had to stop. She wasn’t even here and she had invaded the circle.

“Well, you’ll be able to see her this weekend,” Eric said, looping an arm around Donna.

_What?_

“What?” Donna asked, vocalising Hyde’s thoughts.

Jackie was going to be here, in Point Place? This was getting too real too fast.

“She’s being released from the hospital,” Eric said. “Red’s picking her up on Saturday.”

“To bring her here?”

“No, he’s taking her to the Wichita cotillion,” he deadpanned. “Red himself is presiding as host.”

Donna frogged her boyfriend in the arm. “Smartass.”

“So she’s staying here at your parents’ place?” Kelso asked, sparing Fez a glance.

The foreign boy’s face was conflicted with emotion: happy that Jackie would be home but sad that she wouldn’t be staying with him.

“Far as I know.” Eric shrugged.

“Crap.” Donna folded her arms beneath her breasts with a pout. “I really wish I could be here, but I have that stupid thing.”

“Yes.” Eric nodded. “We all have those stupid things.”

“Shut up.” She frogged Eric in the arm again, and he winced at the pain as he rubbed his soon-to-be bruised bicep.

“Is it another Take Back The Night rally?”

“No, that’s the next week.” She flashed her boyfriend a wicked grin. “I have a group project due next Wednesday, and we can only get together this weekend.”

“Ah, the woes of academia.”

Donna shook her head with a grin, before a serious expression settled on her features. “It’s gonna be a bit bizarre having her back here, isn’t it? I mean with her not remembering everything.”

Everyone except Hyde nodded.

“I wonder how long she’ll stay here,” Donna mused aloud. “She still has a lot recovering to do, and therapy.”

“Donna, relax,” Eric said. “Jackie’s the devil. She’ll recover with the help of Satan.”

A fist flew out, frogging Eric in the arm a little harder than he was used to. He glared contemptuously at the culprit.

“Oww! Hyde? What was that for?”

“Just remindin’ ya that you’re working with me this weekend.” He grinned at his best friend before settling back in his seat. “So no taking off to Donna’s.”

“Oh boy!” Eric cried with feigned enthusiasm. “Employment by The Man!”

Hyde scowled.

“You know,” Donna began wistfully, “I think school would be good for Jackie.” When the guys looked at the blonde like she had grown a second head, she suddenly sat up and brought her fingers to her mouth. “Oh my God, what if we end up at the same university!”

Eric’s brow creased in confusion. “And you’re excited about this?”

“Donna, you do recall that Jackie said college was for ugly girls,” Fez reminded her, but she just waved a dismissive hand.

“Yeah, but that was the old Jackie. The new Jackie—” She stopped herself short. For some reason it felt wrong referring to Jackie as old and new. In fact, she felt rather sheepish for labelling Jackie at all.

“Well, I am off to get ready for work,” Fez announced suddenly. He stood up, clutching the paper bag to his chest. “I must check if anyone has replied to my ‘Roommate Wanted’ ad in the paper.”

“Search not going so well, huh?” Kelso asked.

“No, no bitchy goddesses have applied,” Fez said with a dejected sigh. “Just bitches and sons-of-bitches.”

Kelso nodded sympathetically and stuck his lollipop in the side of his cheek. “You know I’d move back in with you if I could, little buddy.”

“Hey, considering his luck with fire and employment, he might be your roommate again soon,” Eric said, and Kelso nodded in agreement.

“He’s right.”

“Thanks,” Fez mumbled, heaving another heavy sigh. “I bid a good day to you all.”

“But, Fez—”

His free hand flew up. “I said ‘good day’!”

Once Fez half-slunk, half-stormed out of the basement, Eric shrugged. “What’s up with him lately?”

“Probably the roommate situation,” Donna said. “It’s stressing him out.”

“Naw, he’s just depressed cause Jackie refused to marry him.”

Eric and Donna stared at Kelso agape before slowly turning to look at Hyde. Their curly-haired friend had abruptly swivelled around on his chair to face the unsuspecting Kelso.

“Why the hell would he do that!” Hyde spat. “She was just in a serious accident and has amnesia, man, and he thinks _this_ is the perfect time to propose?”

“What? No.” Kelso snorted, unaware of Eric and Donna frantically pantomiming the kill signal. “He proposed to her on Valentine’s Day.”

“Valentine’s Day?”

“Kelso!”

“Dumbass!”

Hyde turned his attention to Donna and Eric now, anger and betrayal laced his tone, “You guys knew?”

“Sorry, man.” Eric shrugged helplessly. “We couldn’t tell you. It was Fez’s choice, not ours.”

“Just like telling Kelso about me and Jackie was _our_ choice?” Hyde’ folded his arms over his chest as he tried not to fly off into a rage.

“He didn’t want you to know yet,” Donna said hesitantly.

“Whatever, man.”

Hyde sat back in his seat, silently fuming, tapping his boot on the floor while trying to keep his external coolness in check. The others were quiet, silently watching, silently judging. He was brooding and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself. Fez had proposed to Jackie. Jackie was coming back this weekend. He was going to see her again. There was no more avoiding her. For the first time in months, not since Sam had arrived on the Formans’ doorstep, Hyde could no longer pretend Jackie was a distant memory.

Clenching his jaw, Hyde unfolded his arms and stood up. Screw this; screw them all! They could think what they wanted. He needed to get out of there and have a drink, fast.

He grabbed his jacket and took off out the basement door without another word. Once the echo of his footfalls died, Donna let out a heavy sigh.

“He’s going to be an asshole to her again,” she said. “I just know it.”

Kelso pulled the lollipop out of his mouth with a pop. “Donna, you worry too much,” he said. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“How do you figure, Kelso?”

He regarded Donna with a rare serious expression. “Cause deep-down Hyde loves Jackie.”

“I dunno, Kelso. You weren’t here when he treated Jackie like shit. But I was.” Donna suddenly stood up. “And I’m not going to stand by and watch it happen again.”

With that Donna turned on her heel and bounded up the stairs to the kitchen—the second dramatic exeunt in two minutes—the third in five. Eric sighed as he watched his girlfriend storm off and turned towards Kelso.

“Still not worried?”

“Nope. Cause I’m not a pessimist like the rest of you guys.” He waved his lollipop at Eric. “I am an optometrist.”

Eric smiled thinly, patting Kelso on the shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, man.”

* * *

DR KEETON WAITED patiently.

Jackie knew he wanted her to talk, to open up, but in all honesty she didn’t know what to say. What was there to talk about? She had no recollection of her past, no clear grasp of her personality, which included any flaws or anxieties she might have had. What could she say?

She couldn’t complain about things she couldn’t recall or consciously place blame on her parents or environment for her current state because, well, she couldn’t remember any of it. All she wanted to do right now was cut the session short and make a quick exit, but there was no way the good doctor would allow that.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said.

“I want you to say whatever’s on your mind.”

Jackie sank into the plush chair with a groan. What she needed right now was to be sedated. Being high or asleep was the only way she figured anyone could tolerate such tedious, self-indulgent banality.

“How are your friends?” he asked.

She wanted to say that she didn’t have any friends, but she didn’t want to open up the floodgate of questioning that such a topic would produce, so she just shrugged. “Alright, I guess.”

“Do you enjoy seeing them?”

Jackie shrugged again. She couldn’t say she hated seeing them, but she couldn’t say she felt excited or comfortable either. The only presence she didn’t mind so much was Eric’s. Unlike the others, he never regarded her with guilt or pity, although he could be slightly annoying.

Donna and Fez always looked shameful; whereas Kelso just looked stupid. But as much as the pretty boy insulted her or liked to remind her of how many times they ‘did it’, she just couldn’t stay mad at him. He was like a puppy that piddled on the carpet. Sure, you were angry at him for making such a mess, but you just couldn’t stay mad at that cute face of his. However, Jackie quickly realised that she was more of a cat person—cats required less maintenance and they peed in a litter box.

“They visit you fairly often, don’t they?” Dr Keeton asked. Another shrug. “How do their visits make you feel?”

“Frustrated. Angry.” She didn’t want to tell him any of this, but if she didn’t give him something, he’d pry until he got his answers. One way or another. This way she could give them to him on her terms.

“And why is that?”

“Because I can’t give them what they want.”

“Which is?”

“Hope. Recognition...” She paused. “Jackie.”

Dr Keeton tented his fingers with a smile. “Speaking of Jackie—” He leaned forward and Jackie winced, knowing she had given him his in. “Why do you refuse to go by that name?”

She sighed. They went over this almost every session, and she always gave him the same answer. “Because Jackie is who I was before the accident.”

“And now you’re Ruby?”

She nodded.

“I know I’ve asked you before—why Ruby?—and I still want you to question why you call yourself that, but now I’m curious. Your friends who have visited you, you allow them to call you Jackie and yet they know nothing of Ruby. Why is that?”

“Cause Jackie’s their past. Why ruin it for them?” Her expression was blank. “They want to call me that name, they can, but it means nothing to me.”

“And you want your friends to mean nothing to you?”

“I don’t know.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I’m just sick of seeing that look in their eyes.”

“What look?”

“Like they’re waiting for me to wake up.” She shrugged. “They see me for who I was, not who I am. They have all these expectations but, like I said, I can’t give them what they want.”

“And you don’t want to disappoint them?”

Jackie huffed. “What I want is for people to actually listen to me when I speak, to leave me alone when I ask them to.” She could feel the anger swell inside her for the first time—real anger, not just frustration. “I want them to stop pushing me, to stop trying to fix me!” She gave the doctor a look that was not lost on him. “But no one is really listening or caring, and maybe I don’t care either.”

After that she had gone silent. The rest of the hour was spent talking about her feelings in the present—how she felt about her friend Chloe, what she liked to do in her spare time, how she was feeling in general. The time eked by.

Dr Keeton glanced down at his watch and smiled thinly. “Well, that’s our last session.” He barely finished his sentence before Jackie was on her feet and heading towards the door. “I’d like to refer you to another psychiatrist in Point Place.”

She turned around. “Point Place?”

“Yes, the Formans will be taking you back to their home to stay until you decide what you want to do.”

“With my life?” she supplied blankly.

“More or less.” He stood up and walked over to his desk. “How do you feel about this—going with the Formans?”

“They seem nice.” She remembered them well, especially the exuberant Mrs Forman who was always bringing her something to eat and asking her how she was doing. She was very much the motherly sort—the type of mother figure Jackie obviously lacked in her life since her own mother hadn’t even bothered to come check on her yet. “They talked about this with me before and, well, I guess it makes sense for me to go back to Point Place for the time-being.”

“But?”

“But I don’t know if it’s where I want to be,” she admitted, and the doctor nodded.

“It’s understandable to be apprehensive. The Formans will provide you with a stable living environment while you decide what you want to do with your life. If I could offer you some advice, though, I’d tell you to take your time with your decision; weigh your options. But remember that you can leave any time you like. You’re not forced to stay anywhere.”

Jackie exhaled with a nod, feeling a little more relaxed. It was nice to know that she wasn’t going to be confined any longer. She could do what she wanted, when she wanted. Although she didn’t know what that was quite yet, knowing that she could pack up and leave whenever she wanted made her breathe a little easier. She felt free, no longer the caged bird she had been these past few weeks.

“And please see Dr Ridge.” Dr Keeton handed her a business card. “I think you’d like her.”

Jackie eyed the card sceptically but took it, affording the doctor a small smile of thanks.

“Good luck, Ruby,” he said, and for the first time in ages, Jackie smiled.

“Thanks, Doc.”

* * *

“SINCE WHEN DID we become the Loud One’s guardians?”

Kitty’s eyes narrowed on her husband. “Red, we’re the only responsible adults in Jackie’s life right now. She’s vulnerable. Besides, Jack said this was only temporary until Jackie was able to manage her own finances. Would you rather her floozy of a mother be in charge? She’d clean out Jackie’s account in less than a day.”

Red made a non-committal reply in the form of a grunt, suggesting that he agreed with his wife’s assessment. Pam Burkhart wasn’t exactly known for putting her daughter’s best interest at heart. If she could get away with it, she’d probably rob her daughter blind and leave her out in the cold.

Luckily for Jackie, no one could touch her trust fund but her. She was in possession of what was known as a dynasty trust. Since Jack was the appointed trustee, he was able to remove the age limit on the trust and release the money to his daughter earlier than intended. However, Jack was in prison and unable to execute the funds directly, and since Jackie couldn’t arrange for them herself due to her current condition, that left Red and Kitty.

Jack had decided that in lieu of a money-grubbing lawyer, he would appoint Red and Kitty Forman as temporary executors of Jackie’s trust fund. While Red wasn’t keen on the idea, what with all the extra work it would involve, Jack assured him that it would only be until Jackie was cognitively capable of handling her own finances.

In return, the Formans would be given a substantial compensatory fee. More than that, Kitty felt comfortable knowing that Jackie’s finances would be secure with them instead of someone like Pam. And so, unwilling to argue with his wife, Red had agreed to the arrangement. Jackie didn’t need people taking advantage of her in her current state.

In addition to Jackie’s financial affairs, there was the matter of her physical and psychological state due to the accident. The psychiatrist had informed them that Jackie’s case was rare, and there was a likelihood that Jackie herself could become somewhat unpredictable. Plus they couldn’t say for certain when or if she’d get her memories back. The doctors still hadn’t been able to say with certainty that her amnesia wasn’t due to structural damage; however, with every passing day, it seemed far more likely that her condition was psychological.

Dr Keeton had warned them on their last visit that those with a dissociative fugue were prone to unplanned travel and often exhibited a closed-off personality; sometimes they even established a new identity for themselves. The doctor had suggested that with a strong familial foundation and regular therapy, Jackie would be less inclined to wander and would recover quicker. It seemed the only way to keep her put was if she had a constant presence in her life, like the Formans and her friends.

However, what really had Kitty insisting that Jackie stay with them was the young girl’s potential heart condition. She had learnt from Jackie’s physician that the Burkhart family had a history of heart problems. Dr Connors had referred Jackie to a specialist in Chicago, insisting that she meet with her doctor regularly at Point Place as well, and Kitty planned on having the young woman keep those appointments.

All they had to do now was convince Jackie to come live with them, and to stay.

* * *

EARLY SATURDAY MORNING, Jackie was packing. She threw a few articles of clothing into a small pink suitcase, grimacing at its colour. Donna had brought the luggage to her a few weeks ago, along with some clothing and assorted books. She had insisted that pink was Jackie’s favourite colour, but she was dubious. It was just so... _pink_.

Jackie went back and forth from the open bureau to the bed where her pink suitcase lay, dragging her feet as she went. She made sure to pack the brochure Chloe had given her the other day, as well as said her goodbyes to the older girl.

She had been hesitant at first—not about leaving this place, because it was dreadfully boring. But she was still unsure if Point Place was the best place for her. Here at the hospital everyone was equal in their trauma, at least in some way. Everyone was missing something; everyone wasn’t quite right in the head. At ‘home’ she would be expected to fit in and adapt, to regain her memories so that everything could return to ‘normal’.

What if she didn’t remember? What if her memories never came back? Right now _this_ was her normal.

Jackie suddenly felt dizzy, and her stomach lurched. She closed her eyes and began rubbing her temples where a migraine was beginning to form. She got a lot of those lately, headaches and migraines, usually followed by long bouts of insomnia. Dr Keeton had prescribed Percocet for the migraines (since he couldn’t prescribe Zomig because of her not-yet diagnosed heart condition) and sleeping pills for the insomnia. She wasn’t allowed to take either until the pain medication was completely out of her system, which would be by Sunday.

She couldn’t wait.

When she finally opened her eyes, bursts of stars crossed her vision and she blinked them away. There was a sudden flurry of knocks on her door, so fast and light that they almost seemed to collide with each other.

Whirling around, Jackie felt as if she was moving in slow motion or underwater. She’d have to take those pills soon or she’d be fainting by the afternoon. Three more knocks followed, decidedly slower, and definitely coming from the door.

Had she imagined the flurry of knocks before?

“Jackie?”

She blinked twice before stumbling her way across the room. When she opened the door, she was confronted by the familiar sight of a gruff-looking older man with balding red hair.

“Mr Forman?” She rested a hand on top of her heart and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Sorry about that. Please, come in.” She opened the door wide and went back to her suitcase. “I’m almost ready.”

Red stepped inside but kept underneath the threshold. He took in a shallow breath and glanced around her room. It was small, white and sparsely furnished, but the window had a nice lake view. Still, it seemed sort of lonely.

“Need a hand?”

She shook her head and closed the suitcase with a double snap. “Nope. Not much to pack, except these books to return to Donna.” She held up the pink case to indicate that she was quite capable of carrying such a measly weight on her own.

“Listen, Jackie, there’s something I want to tell you.”

When she glanced up expectantly, Red cleared his throat. He stepped inside the room and warily closed the door, careful so that it was only slightly ajar. He didn’t want anyone to overhear him, and he knew how nosey people could be in hospitals, especially nurses.

“As you know, Kitty wants you living with us until you sort _things_ out. But just know that you don’t have to.” He quickly raised a hand. “Now I’m not saying that you’re not welcome, because you are. I just don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I don’t.”

He grunted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Well, okay then.”

Short, simple and to the point. He liked that.

He looked the girl over for a moment. She seemed different somehow. She looked the same, sounded the same but was, undeniably, someone else. He didn’t quite know how to talk to her, not that he ever did. He was certainly glad that she wasn’t blubbering or crying or bouncing off the walls. Her blank expression worried him somewhat, though he’d never voice his mild concern aloud.

“Another thing.” He dug a hand out of his pocket and pointed a gnarled finger at her. “We might be the executors of your trust or whatever, but whenever you’re ready to meet with a lawyer to turn everything over to you—” he dropped his hand and shrugged uncomfortably “—you just say the word.”

A genuine smile angled cross Jackie’s lips then, and she nodded. “Thank you, Mr Forman. I appreciate that. Not just the trust fund but, y’know—not making me feel pressured and all.”

Red nodded curtly before picking up her suitcase. “Well, let’s get your things in the car.”

Jackie was about to protest, but Mr Forman was already outside the room. Jackie left too, taking one last look at her room before turning to her neighbour and waving.

“Bye, Mrs Gruben.”

The elderly woman gave Jackie a confused smile but waved back.

Jackie took a deep breath then, squared her shoulders back, and followed Mr Forman out of the hospital. She was finally going home.

* * *


	9. Brown-Eyed Girl

_15 March 1980_   
_Point Place, Wisconsin_   
_The Formans’ Basement_

 

EARLY SATURDAY AFTERNOON, Hyde awoke with the feeling that he had slept long enough. He stretched languidly in the cot, glancing around his old room in the basement. It was dark, small and neat, sparsely furnished and familiar. It was a comfort to him. It reminded him of days gone by; lazy days when he’d lie in bed with a certain brown-eyed girl, doing nothing but touching, familiarising themselves with each other’s body.

Hyde sat up and palmed his face with a yawn. He caught his reflection in the small mirror above the bureau and frowned. He looked tired and unkempt. His curly honey-coloured hair was falling down his forehead and his moustache was awry. Even his eyebrows looked rough and tousled.

On the table across from the cot sat a chess game neatly laid it out. He stared at it for a moment, breathing heavily. The game was unfinished. A memory of Jackie sitting across from him surfaced: her leaning over the board with her dark hair parting like curtains as she moved her king’s bishop to C4 with a smug smirk. A ghost of a grin passed over his own lips at the recollection and vanished just as quickly.

He sat motionless with his palms turned upwards. He glanced down. He had never noticed it before, but his hands seemed huge to him—wide palms with long thick fingers that were somehow proportionate. When he held them up to his face, he saw that they were scratched and bruised; the veins on the top were corded and swollen as though he had been grasping hard at something for a long time in his sleep. But they were still the same hands that’d cupped the back of Jackie’s head when he would draw her in for a kiss, the same hands that’d travelled to her hips as he pulled her in to dance, the same hands that’d freely roamed the expanse of her body as she writhed beneath him.

Jackie.

 _Damn it all_. More thoughts of Jackie.

Hyde rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands with a groan. Fucking Jackie was inside his brain again. It was relentless; _she_ was relentless, and she would never be dismissed. It didn’t help that she was coming home today, staying in the same house with him. He wished he could avoid her, banish her from his thoughts and from his heart, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure if he ever had.

It had been easier when Sam was around; thoughts of Jackie had been kept to a minimum. Sam had been easy, a welcomed distraction. With her on his lap and in his bed, he didn’t have to worry about Jackie invading his thoughts. He didn’t have to be constantly reminded of the smell of her hair as it fell across his chest or the feel of her skin against his as they made love or the sweet whimpering sounds she made as she lay naked beneath him.

But now the memories came flooding back all at once. They were fleeting at first: them sitting together on his chair, feeling her comfortable weight on his lap; his hand on the back of her neck as her soft lips sought his. Sighs, moans, heated touches and sweet releases.

Then the memories became specific...

Jackie was turning on the record player, dancing slow and steady to _Sweet Emotion_. She had her eyes closed and was swaying her body in beat with the bass. Then she grabbed him by the hips and pulled him in close. His hands travelled down her back, cupping her ass as she ground her tight little body into his. Her mouth found his neck and he closed his eyes with a groan, moving to the rhythm she had created.

His hands slid up her back, then her neck, seeking purchase in the silken weight of her hair. He pulled her head back so that he could have access to her throat. Soft whimpers escaped her mouth and he knew that before long he’d have her on her back on his cot, tasting her lips as her hands reached up under his shirt, scraping her nails along the hard planes of his chest and stomach. Then he’d stop and prop himself up on his forearms to watch her eyes flutter open, half-lidded with desire.

Swollen pink lips would part, an impatient tongue darting along her upper lip, and she’d smile up at him coyly. He loved the way she smiled, loved the way she looked at him, like he was her entire world. Then her fingers would end up tangled in his hair, tugging until it hurt, and she would laugh like wind chimes, turning his dark sky bright with her sunlight.

Hyde’s palms ran the course of his face and he cursed silently, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. He sighed. These damn memories wouldn’t leave him. She was haunting his waking thoughts like a curse.

Righting himself, he snatched his aviators from the nook and slipped them onto his face, feeling a little safer. He slid his hands down the length of his thighs and took in a deep, steadying breath before rising to his feet.

It was time to get this shit over with.

He was already showered and dressed within fifteen minutes, determined to leave the house as quickly as possible. Though he was starving, he would have to pick up something to eat on the way to the store.

Knowing Jackie and Red would show up at any moment, he planned his exit route through the kitchen, figuring Red would bring Jackie around front. Luckily Mrs Forman was on day-shift at the hospital, so his escape would be quick, clean and easy.

Throwing on his boots, he grabbed his keys and jacket and made a beeline for the veranda door. Opening it wide, he was about to take a step outside when he came face to face with a wide-eyed Jackie.

“Whoa,” she breathed, taking a leap back. “Sorry about that.”

She was dressed in dark jeans and a navy blue pea coat. It was the same outfit she had worn when he had told her to leave the basement; the same night her vehicle had careened into a tree, causing her to lose her memory.

He swallowed hard at the sight of her, his throat constricting almost painfully. His fingers trembled slightly on the door handle and he tried to convince himself that it was the cold that made him shake so, not this ghostly vision standing before him.

Jackie remained stationary at the door, a small pink suitcase gripped tightly in her hands. At least a foot or more separated them, but to Hyde it only felt like mere centimetres. Her soft brown eyes were intently scanning his face, as though she was trying to register him from somewhere. Her breath crystallised in the air as she exhaled and her lips parted to speak, and that was when Red knocked his boots on the side of the porch and grunted.

“Steven.”

“Yeah?” Lost in a daze, he caught Red’s hard look and cleared his throat. “I mean, yes?”

“You gonna stand there all day with your mouth open, and the door open heating the damn driveway, or step aside so that Jackie and I can come in?”

Hyde quickly snapped his mouth shut and stepped aside, mumbling a barely coherent apology.

Jackie entered first, her shoulder brushing against his chest as she made room for Red. She mouthed a quiet apology of her own as Red barrelled inside, closing the door behind him. Almost tentatively, she raised her chin and glanced up at Hyde. Their eyes met for one heart-stopping second before she turned back to Red, following his directions by taking off her boots.

“Where do you want me to put these?”

“In the living room,” Red said with a jerk of his head, directing her to the swing-door that he was already making his way through.

Hyde backed up to give her space, but as she made to move past him into the living room they began an odd sort of dance—both going left together, then right. After a few awkward steps, they stopped and exhaled in frustration.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly, standing still so that he could move aside first.

Her head wasn’t down like she was shy, but she wasn’t exactly looking him in the eye either. Her entire body language read differently than before, not quite demure but reserved, closed off. It unnerved him.

Finally, Hyde stepped aside and Jackie brushed past him, the skin of her bare hand grazing his as she moved. A barely audible gasp escaped her lips and she turned to meet his gaze, her eyes widening in shock. It was as though an electrical current had swept through them both.

Hyde was breathing heavily, his heart rattling against its cage. Thoughts of touching her stole over him all at once: his fingers grazing over her swollen lips, palms gliding over every inch of her delicate olive skin as his mouth found the tender spot on the pulse of her neck—

He shook his head once, trying to wake himself from the torturous reverie. No, he had to put these thoughts out of his mind. He had to. Jackie wasn’t his to touch anymore; she wasn’t his to hold or kiss or think of this way. Hell, she wasn’t even really Jackie anymore.

“I gotta go,” he said breezily enough, but his mind was still screaming.

She was too close, too tempting. He had to leave, now. And like what he usually did when confronted by his feelings for Jackie, dormant or otherwise, Hyde fled.

* * *

LATER THAT AFTERNOON Jackie was visited by Fez, who offered to take her over to the apartment they once shared together. She had been hesitant at first, not because she didn’t trust Fez (well, she might not have fully trusted him, but then she didn’t really trust anyone), but because she wasn’t entirely keen on revisiting her old life. At least not yet.

However, the foreigner had persuaded her that she could pick up some clothes. She had to admit that a larger selection of shirts and underwear other than what she had in her small pink suitcase would be nice. Of course she could have gone shopping for new clothes at the mall, but she didn’t want to chance being recognised and asked a lot of annoying question. This was a small suburb town after all, so off to Fez’s place she went.

“Jackie, my beautiful goddess,” Fez said, opening the door to the small two-bedroom apartment with a flourish, “welcome home!”

She stepped inside, rubbing the ridge of her ear. “Uh, thanks.”

She was never quite sure how to respond to his praises. He lauded her beauty quite often, as though it was commonplace, and she figured her old self was probably flattered. Her current self, however, was uncomfortable.

“So this is where I lived, huh?”

“Mhm. This is your bedroom right here.” Fez opened the door and waved his hand around. “I kept it how you left it, except for Kelso’s things over there.” He pointed to the knapsack resting on a chair near a small desk.

Kelso himself wasn’t there, thankfully. He was currently visiting with his parents but would return later that night. Yet another reason why Jackie couldn’t to stay in this apartment with Fez. It made her feel somewhat grateful for the Formans’ offer.

Just then the phone rang and Fez promptly excused himself. She used this opportunity to enter the room unescorted, taking in the pink décor with a slight grimace. Donna was right: her old self really did like the colour pink.

She walked over to the bed, eyeing the stuffed animal collection with some disdain. Did she really need that many plush toys? When she was young she must have went through a ‘I must collect a million stuffed animals and perch them on the end of my bed for obvious childish aesthetic purposes but alternatively convince any boy who enters my room that I am a raving unicorn-loving lunatic and creep him out, thereby reducing the contraction of cooties’ phase. Or at least she hoped the latter was part of her former self’s fetish reasoning.

However, this didn’t seem all that likely since Fez had clearly pointed out that this was her room only a short month ago. It was safe to say that this childish phase of her former life had not yet passed with adulthood. There was still a small flotilla of the creepiest, most reflective button-black-eyed unicorns and teddy bears sitting at the end of her erstwhile bed.

All too quickly Jackie felt like fleeing the room, screaming in terror as she imagined pink and rainbow-dyed polyester chasing after her down the hall. Her planned flight from stuffed toy hell, however, was cut short by Fez.

“That was work,” he announced, clasping his hands together in excitement. “Cindy and Suzi called in sick and the salon is short stylists. The manager asked me to fill in. Depending on how well I do, I might be promoted from shampoo boy to stylist extraordinaire!”

“Yay?”

“I know! Isn’t it exciting?” He clapped and jumped up and down before composing himself. “What am I going to wear?” He gave her a wistful yet sad smile surfacing on his lips. “I miss our catwalk fashion shows.”

Jackie blinked twice. Had she heard him right? What exactly went on in this apartment, and was this guy really her boyfriend?

“Right,” she drawled. “Listen, if you could just tell me which bus to take back to the Formans’, I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Jackie Burkhart taking a bus?” Fez scoffed, placing a hand on his hip. “No, we won’t be having any of that. I can take you back or—” A light bulb seemed to switch on above his head. “Hey, would you like to come to the salon with me? You can see a bit of the town, do some shopping, and whenever you’re bored, I can call Eric or Kelso to pick you up and take you back to the Formans’.”

Jackie considered the idea. It would be nice to get out. She had spent so much time cooped up indoors. “Sure. Why not?”

“Fabulous.” He clapped his hands. “You’re in for a real treat. You get to watch my magic fingers in action.” He then used those magic fingers to shoo her back into her old room. “Now, why don’t you pack some clothes while I get ready. Ai! So much to do, so little time!”

Jackie heard his door shut and she turned towards her closet with a sigh. “Great. I’ll just do that, then.”

* * *

JACKIE HAD SPENT a record three whole minutes with Fez at the salon. She had forgot that he had once mentioned she worked there with him as a hair sweeper, so when they walked in the door, her anxiety had instantly mounted.

Her unease wasn’t necessarily a result of being reminded of once holding a menial position (okay, it played a relatively big part) but because there were people here who knew who she was and were asking her questions—invasive questions. Those who weren’t trying their best to pry or prod information from her were giving her long looks of sympathy. She couldn’t deal with their pity or their hollow, meaningless words, so she decided to extract herself from her current situation. This, of course, meant fleeing the salon.

Perhaps returning to Point Place hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

After swiftly excusing herself, Jackie toured the street of small shops, peeking in at the numerous boutiques. She went into some but avoided those that were crowded. She eventually stopped in at a book store and picked up a copy of _Sophie’s Choice_ before stepping back out onto the snowy pavement.

She wondered where to go next. She really didn’t feel like returning to the salon or the Formans’ yet, but she didn’t really know where to go or what to do in this unfamiliar town. So she slowly strolled along Main Street, barely noticing the cars and buses that snored past her.

She could feel a headache coming on and she reached into her coat pocket for her Percocet. After a moment’s thought, she shoved them back into her pocket, deciding that this new-forming headache was merely being brought on from the stress of being lost, of being set loose in unfamiliar territory. All she needed to do was find a quiet, warm place where she could sit down and relax with her book, and then the headache would eventually ebb away with the stress.

After travelling another block, Jackie was standing in front of a music store called _Grooves_. She shrugged and decided why not—listening to some music might settle her down a bit. Besides, she needed to expand on her record collection.

Pushing her way through the doors, Jackie took in the décor of the place. It was obviously a hard rock-oriented music shop, what with an entire wall dedicated to Led Zeppelin. But it was stylish and somewhat modern and held the faint and nostalgic aroma of incense. In the middle of the store was a pit with a table, sofa and a few loveseats for lounging. The place was rather inviting, she had to admit; even with the acid rock of AC/DC playing in the background just low enough not to wholly distract.

“Hey, what’s the devil doing here?”

Jackie spun to her left, coming face to face with a grinning Eric Forman. She lifted an eyebrow in surprise, not just at his sudden appearance but how he had addressed her. “Devil?”

“Sorry, force of habit.” He shrugged sheepishly and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Devil was my nickname for you.”

“I see.” She didn’t bother to ponder why she would be given such a notorious nickname. Instead, she tilted her head back and examined the lanky young man standing before her. “And what did I call you?”

“Me?” Twitchy. Scrawny Geek Boy. Star Wars Freak. “You called me The Kid.”

“The Kid?”

“Yeah, The Kid.” He squirmed under her intense scrutiny. “That’s what you called me.”

She scrunched up her nose in mild distaste before slowly shaking her head. “Yeah, I’m not calling you The Kid.”

“Dammit!”

Jackie’s lips twitched into a smirk and she turned at the imperceptible movement coming from the far end of the store. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of the man she had seen previously that afternoon at the Formans’. He was standing over the bins with his head down, poring over record albums before ticking his pen on the clipboard he held in his other hand.

Swiftly snapping her mouth shut, Jackie tried to avert her eyes, but they were somehow drawn back to him like a magnet. She let her gaze drift over his form for a moment. He was wearing jeans and a pale yellow KISS t-shirt that accentuated the broad planes of his chest and moulded over the taut muscles of his abdomen. He looked like a band roadie—a fit band roadie, but a band roadie nonetheless.

A pair of amber aviators shielded his eyes, preventing her from seeing their colour and depth. She had a feeling he had deep eyes, the kind that could pierce through her soul. Shaking her head, Jackie tried to escape the ridiculous fantasy she was painting, but it was a futile effort. Her gaze instinctively returned to him, surreptitiously scanning his features and centring on his nose, watching how his nostrils gently flared as he breathed.

He had a boyish face, despite the long, scruffy sideburns and the porn ’stache that he could have done without. But what really captured Jackie’s attention, aside from the mysterious draw of his eyes, was his curly honey-coloured hair. It looked incredibly soft to the touch and she wanted nothing more than to spear her fingers through it and test how soft it truly was.

It was a powerful attraction she felt for him; one without precedent in her life. This didn’t strike her as particularly odd. She had less than three weeks of life under her belt thanks to her amnesia, but she had seen men, doctors mainly, and quite a few of them had been handsome and intelligent, yet not one of them had piqued her interest like this scruffy young man who hadn’t even spoken a word to her. Something inside Jackie told her that this guy was special, someone she could trust, yet someone she should also fear.

“Hey.” Eric caught Jackie eyeing Hyde and pointed back and forth between the two. “Do you recognise him?”

She turned back to Eric, her eyes widening slightly in alarm. “Him? What? No!” She quickly placed her hands on her hips as she tried to think of a way to change the topic of conversation. “I just saw him at your parents’ place this morning, that’s all. Is he like your brother or something?”

“Hyde?” Eric shrugged. “Well, I guess you could say he’s my foster brother. He lives with me.”

“Hyde?” Jackie dropped her arms to her sides. “But at the house your dad called him Steven.”

“Yeah, Steven Hyde,” Eric said, and then a look of revelation washed over his face. “Wait, does that name mean something to you?”

“Uhm, no, not really...” Jackie paused, trying to keep her external cool. She didn’t want to share anything she didn’t have to. She didn’t like the thought of leaving herself vulnerable. However, Eric seemed like a nice enough guy, not one to take advantage of her state, and there was really no reason for her to hide this information. What did it mean to her? “It’s just that Donna told me it was Hyde who sat with me when I woke up.”

“Oh.” He looked gobsmacked for a moment. “Well, do you remember him—at the hospital, I mean? Do you remember seeing him there?”

“No, I was really out of it when I woke up. I couldn’t really see anything.”

But there was a feeling—his touch, his presence, his voice. Those tactile memories still assailed her, which was why she almost asked him who he was when she first met him at the Formans’. And now Jackie was about to turn around and leave, making a beeline for the exit like Hyde had earlier that afternoon, when the man in question glanced up and saw her. His mouth parted in a small O.

“Jackie?” Hyde almost sounded surprised. If Jackie could see his eyes underneath his sunglasses, she’d surmise that he was probably sporting a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression.

Earlier that afternoon he had avoided her eye, but she had caught it in that brief moment they brushed hands. He had been giving her that stare, the kind that only men could give—laser-hot and intense and focussed on the most obvious spots. She couldn’t blame him really because he was a guy and guy was basically a synonym for pervert. At least he had been discreet about it. It was a courtesy she hadn’t received from Fez or Kelso.

But now the look was different, that of a man trying to gleam insight of himself through her eyes. And though she couldn’t clearly see his gaze beneath his aviators, Jackie knew that Hyde was studying her—studying her face, her stance, the way she lightly feathered her fingers over the fine hairs across her temple. He was reading her like a book he had read a hundred times over, knowing every page, every line by heart, and damn it all that she somehow knew this about him.

What was she to him?

What was he to her?

Hyde walked over to her then, his eyes subtly scanning her body. She shuddered slightly under his scrutiny, much like she had in that brief half-second their hands had touched in the kitchen. Her emotional reaction to him then had been so sudden, so hot and so completely unexpected that her mind had simply floundered. And now her brain was doing the exact same thing again and they hadn’t even touched.

She had no idea how to cope with this unexpected burst of fireworks in her heart. For a moment she was like a transmission that had suddenly popped out of gear and into neutral—although the engine was revving like crazy, nothing was happening. Then the clutch re-engaged and the transmission slipped smoothly back into place. She could speak again.

“Hey.” Jackie placed a hand on her hip while gesturing palm upwards with the other. “Hyde, right?”

He glanced over at Eric, a somewhat sour expression twisting on his lips, before turning back to her with a curt nod. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “So what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Hunting elephants.”

He openly gaped at her for a moment, and then his lips curved into an amused smirk. “That’s cool. Most people come in here looking for records and such.”

“In a music store? Pfft.” She tsked in faux disgust, before folding her arms beneath her breasts, causing them to jut out and capture his attention. “When will people learn?”

This time she was sure she heard a soft chortle as his tongue pushed against his front teeth. Now she was smiling too, grinning like a fool for this stranger. God, why did it make her happy to hear him laugh? Was this flirting? Was she flirting with him?

“Hey, so how did you get here?” Eric asked, fortunately derailing her disturbing train of thought. “Red drop you off?”

“No, Fez brought me here. He had to work a shift at the salon, so I thought I’d take a look around town.” She held up her copy of _Sophie’s Choice_. “Bought a book, saw the store here and thought I’d restock my record collection.”

“What, need more ABBA?” Hyde’s tone was mocking, but instead of being insulted, Jackie decided to ignore it.

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “No, I actually have no idea what to buy. I don’t really have a preference at this point; however, I pretty much dig anything with a good beat and bass line.”

“Really?” Hyde’s right eyebrow peaked above his aviators. “Would you like me to direct you to the Aerosmith section or The Clash or maybe some Led Zeppelin?”

“Jackie listening to The Clash and Zeppelin?” Eric snickered with laughter, and Jackie felt the sudden urge to kick him in the shin. She quickly dismissed this idea and smacked him in the arm instead.

“Shut it, Eric.”

He stood up straight and stared at her, flabbergasted, and Hyde openly smirked.

“Yeah, what she said.” He then jerked his thumb towards the bins. “Whatever, man. Feel free to look around. There’s some headphones over there, if you want to listen to some tracks.”

Jackie felt a smile creep onto her lips but halted it, nodding almost shyly. What the hell was wrong with her? But Hyde didn’t even see her reaction as he had already turned away, resuming his inventory without speaking another word.

“Hey, whenever you’re ready, I can take you back to the house,” Eric offered, and this time she allowed herself to smile.

“That’s cool.” He looked at her askance, causing her to knit her brow in confusion. “What?”

“It’s just—” He looked over at Hyde then back to Jackie before waving his hand dismissively. “Nothing. Never mind.”

Even if she had wanted to probe further, she couldn’t. Eric was already being called over to the cash register to ring up a customer. So Jackie went about her business, browsing the records and pretending to be interested when all she wanted to do was watch Hyde.

She stole another glance at him through the corner of her eye, watching how he absorbed himself in his work. Threading her bottom lip with her teeth, she frowned. So this was the guy who sat with her in the hospital? This was the guy she’d be living with at the Formans’?

She continued to follow his movements, observing his casual stride, his confident manner. He was a man comfortable in his own skin, not remotely afraid of the world around him. She envied that, envied him. Then her gaze shifted to the sinewy muscles of his arms as he lifted a crate and began stocking, noting how his biceps and shoulders flexed with the effort. Her eyes travelled over to the mecca of his chest, following the hard planes of his body that shifted and rolled as he moved.

God, why was she fixating on him?

There was just something about him, something that drew her eye and made her want to stare at him until he felt her gaze and was forced to turn and meet her. She wanted to take those damn sunglasses off him; she wanted to see those eyes of his, to see them vulnerable and exposed. But another, smaller part of her didn’t want that—the quiet part that was afraid of him, afraid of what he could make her feel.

As if right on cue, Hyde glanced up and met Jackie’s gaze with a blank look. She quickly turned away, busying herself with records as she tried to hide her blushing cheeks.

Yeah, this wasn’t awkward. This wasn’t awkward at all.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, anyone who read the title (yes, it was inspired by Van Morrison) and was like, ‘Hey, hey! Mila Kunis’s eyes are mismatched and hazel!’, you would be correct. However, I am basing my Jackie off canon, which clearly states on T7S Wiki and in S2E15 (by Jackie herself) that her eyes are brown. 
> 
> This isn’t a passive-aggressive dig at those who prefer to use the terms hazel or mismatched in their stories. I’m just covering my arse in case some of you rain down on me like a hail of crit-facting firestorm. What, I value my arse, okay? ;)


	10. Stranglehold

_19 March 1980_   
_60 miles north of Madison, Wisconsin_   
_Oxford Federal Correctional Institution (FCI Oxford)_

 

JACKIE SAT IN the windowless room and pulled idly at the zipper on her jacket. Across from her sat her father, Jack Burkhart, in his dark grey jumpsuit with his carefully managed salt and pepper hair.

Both were silent, save the sound of them breathing. They had been holding an awkward sort of staring match for the past five minutes. Neither knew what to say to the other. Jackie had expected more conversation—not that she wanted any—but Jack appeared just as reluctant. After a while she found herself somewhat claustrophobic in the small visiting cell, as if she was being incarcerated herself.

A few more minutes of silence passed and Jack eventually spoke. He asked her about her health and if her memories were starting to return. Desultory conversation. When she bluntly told him that she was fine but her memories were still very much gone, he seemed both relieved and upset.

The look of guilt that washed over Jack’s face was evident the moment Jackie stepped into the room with him. Perhaps he had felt like he had abandoned her as a father. She had no way of knowing for certain. No one had filled her in on the finer details of her parents, just that her father was in jail for embezzling money from the city and that her mother was often away on trips to the tropics. Whatever the case, Jackie had a feeling she wasn’t being told the entire truth about her family.

A sudden knock at the door startled her, followed by the jingling of keys in the lock. The heavy metal door opened. Jackie glanced over to see a prison guard standing stock still in the threshold with his thick arms crossed over his barrelled chest.

“Visiting hours are over for the day.”

“We haven’t even had fifteen minutes,” Jack complained.

“Should’ve come earlier.” The guard shrugged indifferently. “Warden is calling for an early lockdown. Your girl can visit again on Monday.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Jack reached out and took Jackie’s hands in his. “See you then?”

Jackie lifted a curious eyebrow as she studied her father’s face. Jackie offered her a warm smile before dropping her hands and his gaze, shifting his feet nervously beneath the table.

Was he really sorry, she wondered, or did he want to get rid of her as much as she wanted to be rid of him?

* * *

HYDE SAT ON his chair in front of the television. His mind was on anything but the current program. The events of last Saturday were replaying in his head again, as they had been all throughout the week.

The meeting with Jackie at the record store had been awkward; not because he had wanted to avoid her (though that was part of it), but because she had been so different: cool and aloof. She still looked and sounded and smelled like Jackie, but everything about her seemed shifted somehow. It was her eyes, her stance and the way she carried herself. She was different yet the same.

He hadn’t spoken to her since then, except in passing. She had spent the majority of her first week holed up in Laurie’s old room or being dragged off to doctors’ and lawyers’ appointments by Mrs Forman or Eric, her newly appointed chauffeur by order of Red.

Hyde still wasn’t sure what to think of this new Jackie—the one who kept mostly to herself and took long solitary walks. He liked to be alone as much as the next person, if not more, but it was cold as hell outside. Yet Jackie seemed to find some sort of comfort in the chilly Wisconsin air.

While Hyde had originally intended to have as little to do with Jackie as possible, he ironically found himself drawn to her now that she had distanced herself from him. This new Jackie who barely spoke unless spoken to seemed to have mastered the art of Zen. She had become an enigma, a riddle that he was almost tempted to puzzle out. He couldn’t say for certain whether he liked this change or not. It was nice not to hear her prattle on about useless topics, but at the same time it was an almost discomforting feeling _not_ to hear her talk.

“Were we ever friends?”

The question, and Jackie’s voice, came out of nowhere, and Hyde almost toppled out of his chair in surprise. He hadn’t even heard her coming down the stairs into the basement. He had either been that absorbed in his thoughts or Jackie had become a ninja. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised if she was the latter.

“Uh, what?”

Jackie plopped down on the sofa, taking the seat nearest to him. The image of her sitting in her pea coat with her hands stuffed in the spaces between the cushions while he asked her what she was doing there flashed through his mind, but he just as quickly dismissed it with a wince.

“I’ve just been thinking.” Her voice was low and casual, not a trace of subtext. “You never came to visit me at the hospital, yet you’re friends with everyone else. I was just wondering if _we_ were friends, too.”

Hyde’s jaw locked. He had been waiting for this moment since Jackie first arrived here. In fact he had expected the question to come a lot sooner, but then neither of them had really made themselves available for conversation. And now here they were, having _that_ conversation.

Should he tell her the truth? His gut instinct had always been to be honest with Jackie. After Chicago, Hyde might have circumvented a few truths; however, if Jackie had just flat-out asked him a yes or no question, he would have answered her honestly. But after Sam came along, Jackie hadn’t cared to ask questions. In fact, she just stopped caring altogether, which made pretending that Jackie was no longer a significant part of his life that much easier.

But none of that mattered now. This wasn’t the Jackie he had broken the heart of or had his heart broken by; this was a traumatised young woman. Although she might not have shown that vulnerable side of her yet, Hyde knew it was there underneath the healing bruises and mending bones. And since he was told that bringing up anything traumatic could hinder her recovery, he opted for half-truths.

“Uh, no.” He cleared his throat. “We met through Kelso. You and Donna became friends and I was friends with Kelso and Donna, so...”

“So we just knew each other through friends, then?”

“Yeah.”

He had never been so thankful for his sunglasses, but the shades couldn’t mask his tone. He had never been able to lie well to Jackie. Make fun of her, sure, but boldly lie to her face? No, he hated that, which was why he so often chose to go Zen and remain silent.

“I see.” Her eyes had left his long ago and she placed her hands on her knees before standing to her feet. “Well, that’s too bad.”

Hyde blinked in surprise for the second time that morning. “What?”

“Us not being friends.” She pointed back and forth between them. “It’s too bad.” She walked over to the deep freeze and fished out a cherry popsicle before turning around to face him. “I mean it’s obvious that I’m all sorts of awesome and super fun to be around.”

Hyde’s mouth dropped open for a second before he snapped it shut. Was Jackie Burkhart actually making fun of herself? Since when did self-deprecating humour become part of her repertoire? And was she actually suggesting that they become friends?

“Uh, yeah,” he managed to grunt out, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re about as fun as a barrel full of monkeys.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Her rear bumped against the freezer. “I’m not the slinging-my-own-pooh sort of fun. You’ve gotta _build_ to that kind of fun.”

He chuckled softly in spite of himself. “If you ever get to be that fun, lemme know. I’ll sell tickets.”

She laughed, a low throaty chortle, and stuck the popsicle in her mouth. The room went silent again, save the background noise of _The Price Is Right_ droning on the television.

He grimaced. Of course it had to be _that_ show playing right now with Jackie standing only a few feet away from him. It would have been even more fitting if they were both sitting on the sofa and he still had his beard.

Ah, the Zen beard. How he missed it. He looked good with one, or at least he assumed so since it seemed to attract all the women (especially the college chicks) like honey. Or maybe the girls were drawn to the fact that he had been taken by a certain five-foot-nothing ex-cheerleader with a bitchy attitude and a pirate smile.

Whatever the case, the beard had served him well. The solitary soup-catcher, on the other hand, was cramping his style. Why hadn’t he shaved it off already?

“So, do you hate me or something?”

His heart momentarily froze in his chest and he shrugged uncomfortably. “Nah, I don’t exactly hate you...” He paused, deciding to offer her one of his shit-eating grins. “But if you were on fire and I had a glass of water, I might consider drinking the water.”

She slapped him hard against his chest and laughed. “Asshole!”

He winced, rubbing tenderly below the collarbone. Man, she could hit hard for a tiny girl.

“I said I _might_ ,” he defended, and then lowered his hand before turning away so he couldn’t meet her eyes—they always had a way of putting a stranglehold on him. “And, no, I don’t hate you.”

_I tried, though. I really tried._

“Well, that’s promising.”

“What, me not hating you or me deciding I might throw a cup of water on you if you ever caught on fire?”

“The you not hating me, dickhead!”

He silently mouthed the word. This new Jackie had quite the colourful vocabulary. It was amusing as it was disconcerting.

“Maybe we could try being friends?” she suggested.

“Well, when you phrase it like _that_ —” Hyde turned to look up at her and shrugged “—yeah, maybe.”

She smiled for a split-second—one of those brighter than the sun sort of smiles—then blanked her expression just as quickly.

“But only once you lose that porn ’stache.” She pushed herself off the deep freeze and held up a slender index finger. “I will _not_ be friends with a guy who looks like he just stepped out of a porno shoot.”

Hyde’s eyebrows rose above his aviators. “And how would you know what a porn ’stache is, or a porno?”

“I found a huge collection of nudie magazines that Fez had hidden in my closet while I was gone and, well, I peeked.” She pulled a disgusted face. “I was deeply disturbed, on many levels.”

He nodded grimly. Fez’s pornographic obsession rivalled Forman’s—yet their foreign friend didn’t seem to understand pacing oneself or discretion.

“I don’t blame ya. Want me to kick his ass?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, I appreciate the offer, but I handled it.”

Hyde’s eyebrows rose even higher, as if to ask how she handled it.

“I put the magazines in a box, set it on his bed and then lit it on fire in front of him.” A devilish grin surfaced on her lips. “He cried like a baby.”

“Damn, Jackie! That’s so badass.” He shifted in his seat to face her. “I’m impressed.”

She inclined her head slightly. “Why thank you.”

Hyde let the ghost of a smile touch his lips. It almost felt like old times. He was about to say something else when their playful exchange was interrupted by Mrs Forman calling from the top of the stairs,

“Jackie, could I speak to you for a minute upstairs?”

“I’ll be right up, Mrs Forman!” Jackie shouted, and then curtly waved to Hyde. “See ya later.”

He nodded in reply, covertly watching her bound up the stairs with the cherry popsicle in her mouth. Once she was out of sight, he turned his attention back to the television, but the damage was already done. Jackie wanted to be friends, and what was even more disconcerting was that he was seriously considering the offer.

 _Damn_ , Hyde thought. _I’m doomed_.

* * *

THE SATURDAY LUNCH rush was booming at The Hub. The gang had managed to snag a booth, with Fez and Kelso joining late.

Kelso had to drop Betsy off at his mother’s, as Brooke still didn’t trust him with Betsy’s food choices or being alone with the toddler for extended periods of time. He was a good father, loving and playful, but he was just forgetful and, well, stupid. Brooke would probably feel safer when Betsy was able to walk and communicate at a higher level than her father, which would likely happen in the next few years.

“So how was Jackie’s meeting with her dad?” Donna took a sip of her drink while Eric stole a French fry off her plate.

“Dunno. She hasn’t talked about it.” He dipped the fry in some ketchup. “She doesn’t really talk much anymore.”

“I tried to get her to come out dancing last night, but she declined.” Fez sighed dramatically. “Apparently a book was more entertaining than watching me shake my money-maker.”

Kelso nodded emphatically and pointed at his foreign friend. “You’re a good dancer, too. Not as good as me, but close.”

“Not as good as you?” Fez snorted derisively and gestured grandly to himself. “I am like poetry in motion. _You_ look like a duck having a seizure!”

Eric laughed. “Yeah, remember the time Jackie got you a spoon to bite on?”

“Hey! I’m a fabulous dancer!” Kelso shrieked, pointing at Eric and Fez accusingly. “You’re both just jealous of my gorgeous dancer’s legs.”

Hyde’s shoulders shook with repressed laughter before taking a bite of his burger. It almost felt like old times back in high school. The only person missing was Jackie.

“So, Mr Chauffeur—” Donna elbowed her boyfriend in the ribs “—when are you picking up Jackie from her appointment? I want to go shopping with her this afternoon.”

“You want to go shopping with Jackie?” Hyde asked with a mouthful of burger.

“Yeah, why not?” She shrugged. “She always picks out the most flattering sweaters.”

“Oh, yes, the kind that show off your boo—” Donna shot Eric an icy glare and he opted to glance down at his watch instead of finishing his previous sentence. “Uh, so, I have to pick her up in twenty-five minutes.”

“What doctor is she meeting with now?” Fez asked.

“I think her psychiatrist,” Eric said. “Mom said something about taking her to a specialist in Chicago next week or the week after.”

“A specialist for what?” Donna asked, and Eric shrugged.

“Didn’t say. Must be for her amnesia.”

Everyone nodded quietly and went back to their meal. Jackie was inevitably the hot topic whenever they all got together, especially since she hadn’t regained her memories yet. It had been over a month and still no progress. They were beginning to wonder if she’d ever get them back.

“You know what?” Donna waved a French fry in the air like a conducting wand. “This might sound bad, but I think this whole tabula rasa state is a good thing for Jackie.”

“Tab-u-la-what-ah?”

“ _Tabula rasa_. It means blank slate.”

“Blank slate?” Kelso scoffed. “Donna, why do you have to use your big school words? Just use normal people words like the rest of us!”

She rolled her eyes at Kelso and bit into her fry. “Blank slate is a ‘normal people’ word, moron! It means Jackie gets to start over again. She can forget the nightmare her life has been for the past six months—”

“Hey!” Fez cried, while Hyde silently sulked.

“—and start fresh,” Donna finished, sparing Fez an apologetic look before glaring reproachfully at Hyde. “And now that she’s rich again she can do pretty much whatever she wants. She can go to college or travel or whatever.”

“Or go to the Caribbean like Pam!” Kelso added excitedly. “And take me with her!”

“Yeah, I don’t think Jackie’s gonna be travelling much—least of all with you, Kelso,” Hyde said, idly dipping his fries in ketchup while Donna’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s afraid of flying,” he said, as if this was common knowledge. “And I don’t think she’ll want to be behind the wheel any time soon.”

“I didn’t know she was afraid of flying.” Donna frowned while Eric shrugged indifferently and stuffed fries into his mouth.

“Neither did I,” Fez added. “Did you, Kelso?”

“I know she doesn’t like flies.”

“Hyde,” Donna began slowly, “how did _you_ know this?”

“What?” He shrugged uncomfortably, cursing the belated fact that he had opened his mouth. “She talked a lot when we dated; sometimes I listened.”

Eric snorted. “I guess some of it would seep in after a while, like osmosis.”

Hyde’s fist suddenly snapped out, frogging Eric in the arm, and the scrawny man doubled over.

“Oww! Hyde, what the hell?”

His best friend only offered him a shrug and tight-lipped grin in response.

“It makes sense that she wouldn’t want to drive anywhere on her own,” Donna conceded. “But still, she can do pretty much whatever she wants now—no restrictions.”

“Are you sure you’re not excited about this blank slate Jackie because she doesn’t remember you ditching her to become best friends with Sam?” Hyde snarked.

“No!” she protested loudly, but when she caught Fez’s unapproving gaze, her shoulders slumped forward in defeat. “Well, maybe a small part. But you should be happy about this too, Hyde. Jackie doesn’t remember what a heartless bastard you are.”

“Nope.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “She’ll find that out all on her own.”

“Really?” Eric lifted an eyebrow in jest. “Cause you’re the only one Jackie seems to talk to around the house, and you’re not exactly being heartless, Tin Man.”

“Right.” Donna nodded, grinning like the cat that just ate the canary. “I heard you’ve been bantering with Jackie lately.”

“Forman—”

“What? I only relay what I see and hear.” He motioned to his girlfriend. “And Donna strong-arms me into filling her on all the comings and goings around here in her absence.”

Hyde rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like it takes much.”

“Hyde,” Fez’s voice cut in with a warning undertone, “are you being mean to Jackie?”

“What? No!” he snapped, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. “I’m not being mean to her, man. We just talked. Am I not allowed to banter with Jackie now that she’s Miss Amnesia Chick?”

“No one’s saying that,” Donna said rather uncomfortably. “It’s just—well, you’re not exactly gentle when it comes to bantering.”

“Yeah,” Kelso agreed. “It’s not so much bantering as it is a one-sided burning match.” He gripped the corners of the table and shook. “BURN!”

“Hey!” Hyde defended. “I can be gentle. I can banter!”

Eric snorted and stole a fry off Hyde’s plate. “Yeah, and I’m sure Darth Vader was making small talk when he choked Admiral Motti with the Force.”

“Shut up!” He frogged Eric in the arm again, making him cry out and drop the fry. “I’m not going to hurt her, man.”

“You better not, you sonuvabitch!” Fez spat. “Jackie has endured enough abuse from you.”

Hyde shifted slightly in his seat to face Fez, causing the foreigner to recoil slightly, but he stood his ground (or at least remained somewhat stationary in his seat).

“Look, we don’t think you intentionally want to hurt her,” Eric said, playing the peacemaker. “But you do have this habit of being cruel to Jackie when you’re not with her—and sometimes when you are.”

“Yeah, well—” he shrugged lazily “—I had my reasons at the time.”

“That’s bullshit!” Donna snapped, looking ready to pummel.

“But none of that matters now,” Hyde said, staring hard at the blonde. “She’s not Jackie anymore, _right_? There’s no need for me to burn her.”

“Well, that’s big of you.” Donna folded her arms beneath her breasts in a pout before quietly muttering, “ _Dumbass_.”

After that everything seemed to calm down a little, and everyone went back to their meals in relative silence. Fez and Kelso left The Hub first, heading back to Kelso’s parents’ to retrieve Betsy, while Eric went to pick up Jackie from the doctor’s. Donna, meanwhile, left with Hyde in the El Camino.

The drive back to the Formans’ was icily quiet. Once in the driveway, Hyde turned off the car and the two friends sat in eerie silence.

“So, what’s going on between you and Jackie?”

“What?” He sharply turned his head in Donna’s direction. “Nothing!”

Why did everyone have to assume something was going on between them just because they were living together under the same roof?

She just stared at him unblinkingly. “Nothing?”

“Yeah— _nu-thing_ ,” he repeated, enunciating the syllables.

“Look, Hyde, I know you—” she began to gesture animatedly with her hands “—and I know what you’re like when you’re around Jackie.”

 _You don’t know anything_ , he thought to himself. “I said I’m not gonna be mean to her anymore.”

He hated having to repeat himself. Everyone was so afraid that he’d hurt Jackie again, but did they all forget that she hurt him, too? Kelso, the ultimatum, Chicago, _Kelso_ again. Plus, he knew this Jackie wasn’t the same girl he both loved and hated. She had the same body and the same face, but she was someone and something altogether different. Not better or worse, just different.

“Well, that’s all fine and dandy for now,” Donna said, not entirely convinced. “But what are you gonna do when she regains her memories?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

She rolled her eyes. “So, what are you going to do in the meantime—flirt and banter with her?”

“I’m not flirting!”

“Right, sure you’re not.” She patted his knee in a patronising manner. “And you two are _just_ gonna be friends.”

Hyde’s brow creased in a deep V. He was seriously pissed off and had to remind himself that he never hit girls. “Are you saying I _can’t_ be friends with Jackie?”

“Do you _want_ to be friends with her?” He shrugged slowly in response, but Donna angrily shook her head and waved a finger at him. “Uh-uh, Hyde. A shrug doesn’t cut it as an answer. Do you want to be friends with Jackie?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged again and she shot metaphorical daggers at him with her eyes. “She’s Jackie, y’know.” He said this as if it was answer enough, and oddly it was.

Donna sucked in a deep breath and let her arms fall limply to her sides. “Yeah, but she’s not _really_ Jackie—not the one we used to know. This isn’t the same girl you went out with. She doesn’t remember anything. She doesn’t remember the nurse or the ultimatum or Chicago or Sam.

“And while I don’t want to see you hurt her again—and I _will_ wipe the floor with your face if you take advantage of her in _any_ way—I think this would be a good opportunity for you to start over fresh with Jackie, as friends.”

He said nothing to this, and everything had gone silent again. Hyde’s hands were still tightly gripping the steering wheel as he let Donna’s words sink in. Of course she’d think he’d hurt Jackie again. There was no point in disappointing her.

“Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said wryly, “but Jackie and I were never friends.”

“Yeah, well maybe you can _try_ to be a friend for her.”

He felt his lungs deflate and he pulled the keys out of the ignition. “Whatever.”

“Don’t _whatever_ me,” she threatened. “Either try to be Jackie’s friend or remove yourself from her life.”

Hyde stopped and turned to look at Donna directly. “Are you giving me an ultimatum? Cause we both know how well those go over with me.”

“I’m telling you how it’s going to be,” she stated evenly. “You’re her friend or you’re nothing. Do you understand?”

He grunted.

“I know you, Hyde,” she warned. “I know the both of you, and I’ve seen the looks you’ve been giving her and I know you’re the only person Jackie’s shown any interest in since she woke up from the coma. Though I can’t see why.”

He grimaced. “Again, thanks.” Although Hyde also didn’t know why Jackie was so interested him, especially since she couldn’t remember him. Maybe it was all for the best.

“Just don’t be an asshole, Hyde,” Donna warned.

“Don’t be a _bitch_ , Donna.” He opened his door. “I’ll deal with Jackie when I know how to deal with her.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means mind you own damn business.” He slammed the door shut, only to hear Donna yell from inside the car.

“What are you so afraid of, Hyde?”

He ignored the question and entered the house. He was afraid of everything—of himself, of Jackie, of that damn stranglehold she had on him. He was afraid to be friends with the only person who had ever held his heart.

He was afraid of being hurt again.

* * *


	11. Sympathy for the Devil

_22 March 1980_   
_Kenosha, Wisconsin_   
_Kenosha Psychiatric Hospital_

 

JACKIE SAT ON the plush brown leather sofa in Dr Ridge’s office and twiddled her thumbs in uncomfortable silence. She had only come to the hospital to book an appointment, but the psychiatrist had insisted on speaking with Jackie first—‘getting a feel’ for her was what she called it.

Dr Ridge wasn’t quite what Jackie had envisioned. She seemed less clinical than Dr Keeton and far more social, yet also distinctly reserved. The doctor herself appeared to be in her early-to-mid forties but had that eternally youthful glow to her with her healthy full cheeks. She was sure the woman could pass for thirty-five or maybe even younger, if it wasn’t for the bold streak of silver in her fine raven black hair. Yet the silver-grey line that ran along her right temple up into an elegant French twist suited her ivory complexion, as did her attire.

She was dressed professionally yet fashionable in a pant suit and white silk off-the-shoulder peasant blouse. Her face was pale, almost porcelain-like; her eyes a deep azure and intelligent. On her slender upturned nose rested a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, and she was peering through them at Jackie with keen interest.

“So, Jackie, what’s been keeping you busy these days?”

“It’s Ruby,” she corrected instinctively, regretting the correction the moment it came out of her mouth.

Now the doctor was going to ask her why she wanted to call herself Ruby and how that made her feel and all that bullshit. But the anticipated questions never came. Instead, Dr Ridge just nodded as though this wasn’t abnormal in the slightest.

“Okay, Ruby—what have you been up too since your return to Point Place?”

“Nothing much.”

The truth was that Jackie spent most of her time reading or going for afternoon walks around town, making sure to avoid crowded places. She had been flagged down too many times and asked too many questions that she couldn’t answer. And while the constant attention had left her feeling frustrated and uncomfortable, she just couldn’t keep herself locked indoors. She had to roam freely.

“Just reading and such.”

“What do you like to read?”

“Pretty much anything. I enjoy short stories and poetry the most.”

“Oh, we could spend a whole session talking about books.” Dr Ridge laughed. It was a pleasant sound, almost bell-like. “Do you ever feel restless at home?”

Home? Was it _really_ home? “The Formans have made appointments for me for the next couple of week—with lawyers and doctors and such.” She shrugged. “So I guess I’ll be busy soon.”

“Yes.” Dr Ridge opened the manila folder that was resting on her lap. “I see here in your medical files that your father’s side of the family has a history of heart disease.” She closed the folder and her voice softened. “Are you worried at all?”

Another shrug. “No, I don’t really think about it.”

“Is there anything particular on your mind, then—anything you _do_ worry about?”

“I have a roof over my head and financial security for the rest of my life. What do I have to worry about?” she lied. “Theoretically, I can do almost whatever I want.”

The Formans had put a bunch of money in her account and she had secretly stashed a sizeable amount in her sock drawer. Just in case, she had told herself. In case of what, she didn’t know, or at least she didn’t want to admit to knowing.

“And what is it that you want to do?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“That’s understandable. Most people young people don’t know what they want to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting forty-year-olds I know still don’t.” Dr Ridge smiled encouragingly. “You have lots of time, Ruby.”

“Time, yeah...” Jackie trailed off. It helped to know one’s past when deciding what one wanted to do with one’s future, did it not?

“Do you feel like you don’t have a lot of time?”

“No, I just don’t feel like I’m in control of it.” She shifted uncomfortably. “But I guess no one’s really in control.” Jackie then let out a protracted sigh and stood up. She suddenly felt like moving again. “Look, I, uhm, I thought our session didn’t start until next week.”

Dr Ridge nodded apologetically and rose with Jackie. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I just had to ask you a few questions.” She set Jackie’s folder on her desk. “I must admit that I’m excited to work with you, Ruby.”

“Excited?”

“Yes, I’ve never worked with an amnesia patient before.”

“Oh?”

 _Great._ Jackie folded her arms beneath her breasts and tried hard not to openly roll her eyes. She was just some psycho-neurobiology project for the good doctor here. Were all psychiatrist like this? Jackie’d avoid them all, but she did need a refill on her Percocet prescription and maybe a stronger dose of sleeping pills. She hadn’t been sleeping well—or at all, really—since she came to Point Place. Initially she blamed the fact that she was sleeping in a new place and it was disorienting her, but then all places were new to her now thanks to her amnesia.

“Listen, Dr Ridge—”

“Please, call me Siobhán.”

“Yeah, I won’t be calling you that.” She inwardly winced at the snarkiness of her own tone. Perhaps that wasn’t entirely fair since she was making the doctor call her Ruby. But then she was paying the psychiatrist to pick apart her brain when she _really_ didn’t want that. _Siobhán_ would just have to deal with it. “I just don’t feel like talking right now.”

“I understand, and I apologise if I came off as overly excited.” Dr Ridge’s tone seemed genuine enough, causing Jackie to relax somewhat and reconsider her earlier assessment. “It’s not that I see you as a puzzle or an experiment. You see, I’m also a neurologist. My speciality is anxiety disorders, specifically post-traumatic stress.”

“Post-traumatic stress?”

“It’s an anxiety disorder triggered by witnessing or experiencing a traumatic event. Instead of immediately coping with the event, sometimes the individual doesn’t adjust and the symptoms worsen, disrupting their daily life.” Dr Ridge leaned against her desk. “It’s a quite common condition among war veterans. It was initially termed ‘shell-shock’ during the First World War. Only very recently was it recognised as a legitimate disorder.”

“I see,” Jackie said, completely disinterested. “Thanks for the lesson.”

Dr Ridge chuckled richly. “Sorry, sometimes I get carried away with explanations and forget how boring they can be.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled; it was almost pleasant. “Essentially I study how trauma affects an individual’s memory. But, please, don’t think I only want to treat you to further my studies.”

“ _Only_?”

“I like to be honest with my patients, Ruby. How else can I expect them to be honest with me?” The doctor pushed off from the desk and took a step towards Jackie. “I just want to be upfront with you, but at the same time I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. If you can’t trust me, then I can’t help you.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Jackie exhaled sharply while rubbing the back of her neck, and Dr Ridge practically beamed.

“So how does next Wednesday sound? 2:30 PM?”

“Good—” Jackie shrugged “—I guess.”

Shortly thereafter, Jackie left Dr Ridge’s office, making sure to book an appointment with the receptionist. She slipped on her coat and exited the building, drawing an icy breath of air into her lungs. It was good to get away from the stifling crowd.

Tonguing the inside of her cheek, Jackie glanced down at her watch for the time. Donna had given her time piece as a gift when she was admitted into Sacred Heart. Jackie had quickly discovered that she didn’t like watches. Maybe it was because she didn’t like being constrained by time. Regardless of her feelings towards watches, it was still the most convenient means to tell time.

Eric would be arriving in the next few minutes to take her back to the Formans. She could wait inside where it was warm, but she really didn’t want to sit with the families and the single professionals and stare at the tasteless artwork. Plus she felt a migraine coming on. The walls of her skull felt like they were swelling and contracting. She winced, bringing her fingertips to her forehead.

Taking her pills out of her pocket, Jackie popped a few in her mouth and swallowed them dry. She had forgot to ask Dr Ridge for a refill. She’d have to ask on Wednesday. Yet another task for her to schedule in next week, along with other doctors’ and lawyers’ appointments. When was it all going to end? And when was she going to have a say in the matter?

Jackie knew the Formans meant well, but sometimes it was just a little too much. Everyone seemed to expect so much from her—to get her life together, to remember her past. But she didn’t have her act together. She didn’t have her memories back and she didn’t know if she ever would, or if she even wanted to get them back.

All too often these days she felt like she was suffocating. The walls were closing in around her and she had to smile grimly at the irony. She had so desperately wanted to escape the hospital walls but had only found herself behind yet another set of walls, another prison.

“It’ll get better soon,” she told herself, as though saying it aloud would make it real. “I just need to get my memories back.”

A small part of her questioned whether that would truly help.

* * *

HYDE WAS IN the basement watching _Little House on the Prairie_ a little more intently than he normally would have been when Jackie came down the stairs and flopped down on the sofa next to him.

“Hey,” she breathed, her feet going up on the table to rest.

He grunted a similar greeting, shuffling over a bit so that their thighs weren’t touching, but trying not to be obvious about it. Jackie, however, didn’t seem to notice or care, sinking back into the sofa like it was devouring her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Flummoxed, Hyde was about to respond with an ‘Uh, I live here?’ when she waved a hand at him.

“Ah, I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just—shouldn’t you be at the store?”

Yes, technically he should have been. It was a Saturday afternoon and he had given both Leo and Eric the day off.

“Angie’s remodelling the place with some new ’80s disco-pop-whatever crap.” He crossed his arms over his chest in disgust. “I told her if she wanted to do that then she could watch the store herself for the day.”

“Angie?”

“My sister.”

“Oh.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “Why are you letting your sister do stuff to _your_ store?”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “She’s got some good ideas and I wanna give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Yeah, I’m a prince.” A prince who’d tear down any disco or soft rock crap he didn’t approve of the next day.

Hyde couldn’t help but feel slightly uneasy at the thought. Here he was trying with his half-sister, who didn’t share the same interests in music and business that he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to come half-way with Jackie—a Jackie who no longer had any emotional ties with him whatsoever, past or present.

“So, how did your shopping trip with Donna go?” he asked, deciding to change the topic. He didn’t see any shopping bags on her, which was surprising. Maybe she already put them away upstairs.

“Exhausting,” she moaned, sinking back down into the sofa to emphasise her fatigue. “She expected me to pick out the perfect outfit for her, but I only have so much to work with, y’know? I’m not a miracle worker.” She shrugged. “Besides, old Jackie might’ve been some sort of fashionista guru, but Ruby here is not.”

“Ruby?”

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second but she quickly blanked her features and dismissed his question. “Never mind. It’s just an expression.”

He grunted. An expression from where and in what world? Something wasn’t quite right here.

“Ugh, I just rather we had gone somewhere else.” She brought both hands up to rub at her temples. “I hate that mall.”

 _Jackie hates the mall?_ Hyde thought with a frown. _Since when?_

He had assumed all girls loved the mall; well, except maybe Donna, but Donna was like one of the guys. Jackie, regardless of her amnesia, still dressed like Jackie, still took pains with her appearance like Jackie—or at least he assumed so since she looked perfectly coiffed at the moment. But upon closer inspection, her eyes did look tired and a little sunken, and her face was decidedly pale.

“Too many people there know me,” she said, and clarity finally struck home.

“Yeah, that must be uncomfortable.”

“It’s annoying is what it is.”

Hyde grunted in sympathy. He forgot that being back in Point Place would mean a lot of people would still expect Jackie to know who they were. And those who knew about the accident would be naturally curious. He couldn’t imagine the kind of hell Jackie went through on a daily basis, answering the same annoying questions over and over like, ‘Do you remember who I am? How are you doing? Do you think you’ll get your memories back?’ If it were him, he probably would have drop-kicked them all.

“Ugh, and now I have a migraine.” Jackie winced, looking even paler than before, and stood up. “I’m gonna go lie down. Have a good one, Hyde.”

He nodded and watched her go, letting the way she said his surname wash over him like a bitter aftertaste. It just didn’t seem right coming from her mouth, but he wasn’t going to correct her. Donna had been right, in her own annoyingly passive-aggressive way. He had to stop comparing the new Jackie to the old one and start regarding this Jackie as a new person in his life, a person who just so happened to be wearing his ex-girlfriend’s face.

While Hyde understood the logic behind Donna’s argument that they could start over fresh as friends, he simply didn’t want to be friends with Jackie. Not because of that bullshit excuse about them never being friends, but because it was damn near impossible to go from lovers to friends. Donna had no idea what it was like. She had been friends with Forman first; there was a going-back-to. Jackie and Hyde never have that.

_You’re her friend or you’re nothing._

He ground his teeth. Damn women and their ultimatums. He didn’t do well with them or being backed into a corner. Ultimatums implied he had done or was about to do something wrong, and that he wasn’t about to reach a reasonable conclusion on his own. Ultimatums meant submit or be abandoned, and he’d rather do the abandoning first. He’d rather get hurt on his own terms.

One of the biggest issues he and Jackie ever had was control—who had it. They had both wanted to be with each other despite their arguments to the contrary, but Jackie had always wanted more. She wanted everything right then and there. She had to have the last say; she had to be in control. Hyde knew it was because she had so very little control in her life growing up. Deep down, what she really wanted was security.

What hurt Hyde was that he thought he had done right by her, or at least as admirably as he could, but it always felt like it was never enough. He was always being told what to do and how to feel and that led to running; that led to avoidance; that led to screaming matches and tears shed that could have been avoided.

But this ultimatum from Donna wasn’t about control or insecurities or having the upper hand in a relationship. It was about doing what was best for Jackie, not him _and_ Jackie. Jackie, period. And for all her persistent noisiness, Donna had a point. Hyde had to make a choice: to actually try to be Jackie’s friend, regardless of their past and the potential pain, or cut off all ties entirely.

He knew which choice would hurt Jackie less. He knew what he should _probably_ do, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

* * *

WHEN SLEEP FINALLY came, it was full of dreams. Jackie’s mind was a blackness bordering on eternity, a space with no light and where no sounds echoed. She was on the edge of that space, reaching out towards nothing, to touch what, she didn’t know. Maybe she was meant to stop something, to prevent it from coming out, but the effort was futile.

The hand that had met nothing suddenly felt flesh—warm, soft and yielding. Then there was a flash of colour, a sudden blur of movement. A figure came into focus and she saw him as clear as day. The soft curls of his hair were tousled by the breeze. His blue eyes were hidden behind tinted amber glass. The hard line of his cleft was jaw set tightly in nervous apprehension. He was waiting...

 

“All right, look—Steven, _do_ you want to be with me?”

He shrugged non-committally.

“No, no a shrug’s not gonna cut it. Steven, I need you to say something.”

She was so frustrated she wanted to scream. But deep down she knew he loved her; she knew he wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him. She just had to make the first move, like always.

“All right, look, I’ll even go first. Steven, I want to be with you.” She motioned for him to continue, “And you...”

“I... Can you hang on a second?” He turned to face Michael and frogged him hard in the chest. “Would you get outta here?”

“Oww! If you want me to leave, all you have to do is say _please_.”

“Fine.” He punched Michael even harder. “ _Please_.”

“That’s better!”

Michael left, and Steven turned back to her with a sigh. “Jackie, I _do_ wanna be with you.”

She could feel the corners of her mouth curl up into a smile of pure unadulterated bliss (and victory). With her hands behind her back, she cocked her head to the side and took a happy step forward. “Because you love—”

“Don’t push it,” he interrupted, but his eyes and mouth had softened into a barely perceptible smile.

She smiled too, saying a quick, “Okay,” before going in for the kiss.

His lips met hers with the heady heat of remembrance and her arms entwined around his neck. His hands went to her shoulders first, as if to see if she was really there, really his. His wide palms slid down her back, pulling her in close as she speared her fingers through his soft hair.

He turned his head and deepened the kiss. She sighed into his mouth, her fingers grasping at the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. It was so perfect. It was like coming home.

 

Everything suddenly went to black again, and Jackie was left alone with her thoughts.

_Steven? Who’s Steven?_

Though her addled dream-state could only begin to guess at the significance, could only fumble with rationalisations and portents in this abstract world, a voice suddenly called out:

**You’re not me. You’re living a lie. You think they care, but they don’t. You think he won’t hurt you, but he will. He will. And you’ll be alone... again.**

The silence of space filled her mind, and just as suddenly her world began shifting, shifting and colliding into thoughts and patterns she couldn’t describe. It was a signal, ushering her towards something new and terrifying.

The images splintered and broke apart. A memory unlocked spun out and retreated inwards and back unto itself. And she was left wondering how many more were to come and go. But for now her world was shifting, spinning like a ball of glass in the void, and that voice not unlike her own was the first fragile crack in the null.

* * *

JACKIE STUMBLED HER way out of the bathroom, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes. She was light-headed and sore, as if she had been wrestling with her sheets the entire time she had been sleeping—and the sheets had won.

While she didn’t feel all that rested, her migraine had thankfully been reduced to a dull ache. Her stomach gurgled hungrily and she groaned, bringing a hand to her rumbling midsection. Maybe some food lining her belly would lift this feeling of discomfort. So after a series of jaw-cracking yawns, she made her way down the stairs into the living room.

Eric was seated on the sofa, watching _Donahue_ on the coloured TV. He glanced up at the sound of her coming down the stairs and did a double-take when he saw the normally immaculately dressed and coiffed brunette sporting a pair of blue and white flannel pyjamas. Her face was pale and her eyes were dark and sunken, her raven-coloured hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.

“You look— _good_.” He stressed the adjective, and she glared at him with tired eyes.

“Thanks.”

“How are you feeling?”

She shrugged, taking the seat next to him. “Better than yesterday.”

“You mean Saturday?”

She blinked at him, nonplussed. “Why, what day is it?”

“Monday.”

“Monday? Huh.” She was supposed to visit her father again today. Had she really slept that long? She didn’t remember waking up in the night or even dreaming, although she was sure she had done both.

“Yeah, Mom wanted to get you to eat, but you were dead to the world.” He picked up the clicker and turned down the volume. “You okay?”

She rubbed at the tender muscle on her neck with a sigh. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just these migraines, and I haven’t been sleeping well since I got here.” When he gave her a concerned look, she shrugged it off and dropped her hand. “Insomnia’s a bitch.”

He nodded slowly. “Well, you do look more rested.”

She certainly didn’t feel it, but then again she did feel better than she had on Saturday. What she really needed to do was wake herself up. She brought her shoulders back, making the blades touch, and she stood to her feet. “Well, I’m gonna take a shower.”

Just then Mrs Forman came bounding out of the kitchen, a pristine white apron tied around her waist. “Oh good, Jackie, you’re up. I was worried I was going to have to force feed you.” She tittered jovially before a motherly expression stole her features. She put a hand to Jackie’s forehead. “How’s your head? Do you have a fever? Are you hungry?”

“Uh, not especially hungry,” she said, trying to field at least one question, before noting the almost hurtful look in the older woman’s eyes. “But I really could eat—it’ll probably make my head feel a lot better.” Mrs Forman smiled and Jackie hooked her thumb in the direction of the stairs. “I’m just gonna take a quick shower and come down for lunch.”

After a long, hot shower, Jackie decided it would be best to skip drying her hair as Mrs Forman probably had lunch already set out on the kitchen table. With her hair still damp, Jackie quickly dressed herself in a pair of dark jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt she had found in her luggage. She jogged down the stairs to find Eric, Mrs Forman and a stranger seated in the living room.

“Jackie,” Kitty said in a voice laced with concern, and the brunette immediately paused on the landing. She noted the tall, bronzed woman sitting next to Mrs Forman and frowned.

“Hello, Jackie.” The tanned woman turned towards the brunette with a big smile.

Something about the beautiful woman was off-setting and read insincere to Jackie. She was too tan, too pretty, too perfect—like an older woman who took great pains to look and act a lot younger than she was.

“Hi,” she said cautiously, taking the final step off the landing. She glanced over at Eric, who was seated in the red chair. His expression was mirroring his mother’s, that ‘uncomfortable with the situation’ look.

“Don’t you recognise me?”

Jackie’s brow knit together in annoyance. Was this woman an idiot or something? “Uh, no?”

Surely Eric and Mrs Forman had told this Amazon woman about her amnesia. If she knew, she didn’t let on or take offence to Jackie’s tone, for she just ploughed onwards.

“I’m your mother!” She stood up with her arms opened wide, like this was a surprise birthday party and Jackie was the flummoxed birthday girl. “Pam Burkhart!”

“I see,” Jackie said, circling the woman (who still had her arms open) with wariness. How was this tall woman her mother? Granted the woman was gorgeous, but Jackie couldn’t see herself in her at all.

“You see?” Pam repeated with a giggle, and then wiggled her hips, opening her arms even wider. “Oh, get over here and give your mother a hug.”

Jackie eyed her mother like she had just suggested a disgusting notion, like pig wrestling, and kept right where she was. She wasn’t going to hug this woman, not as Ruby. Ruby didn’t hug. Ruby didn’t trust this bronze statuesque woman standing before her with her too-big-for-her-mouth smile. It was like she wanted to devour her.

“Would you like something to drink, Pam?” Mrs Forman suggested, noticing Jackie’s obvious discomfort.

Pam finally dropped her arms (certainly not in disappointment) and turned towards Kitty with a bright smile. “Can you make a piña colada?”

“I can pour you some rum,” Kitty said with a laugh, walking over to the bar. “Might pour myself some, too.” Another nervous, tittery laugh.

“Why are you here?” Jackie asked Pam, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “Why here, why now?”

“What kind of question is that? I’m your mother. Isn’t a mother allowed to see her child?” Pam put a hand on her heart, as if wounded. “Besides, my baby needs me.”

“She needed you a month ago,” Kitty muttered under her breath, taking a big gulp of the rum meant for Pam with a hiss. She wasn’t much for rum, but it was convenient and strong.

“What was that, Kitty?”

“Oh, nothing!” Mrs Forman sang, taking another sip and muttering dark words into her drink.

Pam shrugged it off and turned back to her daughter. “I wanted to see how you were doing, sweetie.”

“I’m fine,” Jackie said through gritted teeth. She had no idea why she felt so angry in this moment. “If you were that concerned, you could have called—say, a month ago.”

Pam shook her head, as though she were dealing with an unruly child. She brought a hand to Jackie’s head, running her fingers along her daughter’s damp curls. “I’m sorry. I would have come sooner, but I had a pressing engagement.”

“Like what?” Eric asked. “A conga line?”

He had been silent up to that point, almost unnoticeable in the room, and Jackie had to struggle not to laugh outright.

“So how long will you be staying in town, Pam?” Mrs Forman asked, trying to ease the tension in the room, as well as fish for information. “And _where_ will you be staying?”

“I’m here for as long as my baby needs me,” Pam cooed, ignoring Kitty’s angry stare. “I figured I’d get a house for me and Jackie to stay in.”

“Really now?” Kitty was already pouring herself another drink, Pam’s piña colada entirely forgotten. “With what money, Pam?”

Pam clucked her tongue disapprovingly and ignored Mrs Forman, turning back to Jackie like she was a new Barbie doll for her to play with. “My daughter shouldn’t have to live here. She has enough money to buy a place of her own.” She wiped invisible lint off Jackie’s shoulder and smiled. “Of course I’ll help with the arrangements and get her settled.”

“Don’t talk as if I’m not in the room,” Jackie said icily, taking a step back.

How was it that this woman could look her in the eye, make full contact, and still treat her like she wasn’t even there, like she wasn’t even real?

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jackie. Apparently this little accident of yours has made you quite sensitive.” Pam shook her head with a burdened sigh of the understanding. “And has also resulted in quite the lapse of fashion judgement.” She frowned, motioning to the black band tee. “Honestly, Jackie—you’re wearing a t-shirt?”

“So you want me to buy you a house—is that it?” Jackie ignored the desultory conversation and got straight to the heart of the matter. Her mother wanted something from her.

“No, _us_ a house,” Pam clarified. “I’m just going to help you settle in. We can do each other’s hair and pick out a new wardrobe for you. It’ll give us some mother-daughter bonding time.” The tall woman curved her well-manicured fingers along Jackie’s jaw. “You might not remember this, but we were very close.”

Mrs Forman openly snorted into her drink and Eric palmed his face. Pam didn’t seem to notice either, but Jackie had. _Might not remember? Right._

“Kitty, could you have your strapping young son take my bags upstairs?” Pam ordered, as though this were the most natural thing for her to do in someone else’s home. “Jackie, could you be a dear and help him while I have a chat with Mrs Forman?”

Jackie spared a glance in Kitty’s direction and the motherly woman sighed, setting down her drink and nodding silently to her son. “Eric, take Mrs Burkhart’s bags into Jackie’s room for now. Jackie—” her soft eyes were full of pity “—you go with him for a bit, hun. I’ll call you as soon as your mother and I are done talking.”

Kitty stepped out from behind the bar and made a beeline for the kitchen with Pam gracefully following. Neither Jackie nor Eric bothered to make a move for Pam’s suitcases. Instead, both briefly exchanged glances before tip-toeing towards the kitchen door the moment it stopped swinging. Eric stood on the left side of the door while Jackie bent over on the right. Their mother’s voices were hushed but clear enough to make out.

“So when did you find out about the trust fund?”

“Jack told me last week... I hear you and Red are the executors.”

“We have Jackie meeting with lawyers and bankers this week to decide what she wants to do with the money.”

“That’s good. So the money has already been transferred to her?”

“Some of it, yes.” There was a distinct pause followed by an accusation, “What are you doing here, Pam?”

“I don’t think I like your tone, Kitty. I’m here for my daughter, of course.”

“You should have been here over a month ago when your daughter was in the hospital!”

“Kitty, I appreciate you and Red helping out with my Jackie. But now that I’m back I plan on taking care of her myself.”

“You mean you plan on taking her money? You’ve never been here for that girl when she needed you the most. Instead you go off gallivanting God knows where with God knows who and only come back when your daughter has something _you_ want.”

“Kitty, she is _my_ daughter, not yours. And none of this is no longer any of your business or concern.”

Jackie pulled back, not wanting to hear another word. She felt sick to her stomach. _This_ was her mother? Some greedy, self-centred, money-hungry witch? She turned around and deliberately walked to the other side of the room.

“Jackie?” Eric whispered, taking a step away, but she was already putting on her boots.

She grabbed her navy pea jacket from the coat rack and opened the front door wide. “I’m going out for a walk.”

And with a soft click of the door shutting behind her, she was gone.

* * *

JACKIE DIDN’T WANT to go back inside. She didn’t want to have a talk with her ‘mother’. There was no place for her in Pam’s fantasy world. There was no place for her anywhere, except in this driveway and on this porch with the cold wet snow underneath her backside.

She stood up and began pacing the length of the driveway with her hands in her pockets, watching her boots mark prints in the browning snow. Her mother had claimed they were close, but she wasn’t inclined to believe her. What mother would stay out of the country when her daughter was in a coma, but hops on the next flight back to the States when she discovered that daughter was now in possession of a sizeable trust fund? A mother greedy for money, that’s who.

As alone as Jackie had felt before, now she felt like an expendable asset. Everyone seemed to want something from her—her memories, her money, some kind of connection that wasn’t there—but she had nothing left to give and no ties to keep her here any longer.

Making her way over to the basement entrance, Jackie sat on the top step. She was hoping to hide herself for a bit or maybe be met with a miraculous solution to her problems. Instead, she ended up sitting there until her backside went numb, hitting her thighs with her fists to pass the time.

Her face felt like it had shattered into pieces and she couldn’t keep it straight. The feeling was indescribable, something she couldn’t identify or relate. ‘I want—I want—I want’ was on a loop in her head, but just what this real want was she didn’t know, except that she _wanted_ to escape.

After a few minutes the door to the basement opened. She glanced down quickly, her hands on the steps, ready to push herself off and run, when she saw that it was only Eric. He stood still at the bottom of the landing, his eyes widening momentarily in surprise, before being replaced with a good-natured smile.

“Hey, we were getting worried about you.” He bounded up the stairs and took the seat next to her. “Thought I might have to organise a search party.”

Jackie smiled thinly, folding her hands together and placing them on her lap. She quite honestly didn’t believe anyone was all that worried, least of all her mother, and she really didn’t care. But at least Eric was acting as though he cared.

“Jackie, are you okay?”

She thought about the question for a moment. Was she? Nothing had been right since she first woke up, and coming back so soon to Point Place only seemed to exacerbate her feelings of unease.

She knew what she wanted to do, but she was somewhat afraid to do it. Her biggest obstacle right now was how she was going to execute her plan. What she needed was a willing participant; someone who had no real opinion on her comings and goings and who would help her without question.

She glanced over at Eric. “I need you to do me a favour.”

* * *

THEY HAD BEEN driving for five minutes before Jackie finally spoke, “I’m surprised you were able to sneak into my room, pack my stuff and leave without anyone noticing.”

“Well, I _am_ a ninja,” Eric replied all too seriously, and she snorted.

“Sure you are.”

In truth his mother had gone back into the kitchen to bake away her anger and worry. Only Pam had been in the living room to see him go, seated on the red chair as if it were her throne.

“When Pam asked me where I was going, I just said I was going to keep you company.”

“And what did she say?”

“Hurry back.”

“Yeah, hurry back with her meal ticket,” Jackie muttered, yet there was no detectable bitterness in her tone. Still, Eric felt bad for her.

“Look, Jackie, I’m really sorry about your mom.”

She waved him off. “Eh, it’s okay. I don’t remember anything about her anyway, and I’m glad I don’t. Besides, it’s not like I have to deal with her anymore, right?”

He nodded slowly, stealing glances at Jackie out of the corner of his eye. He had to admit that she had quite the poker face. He couldn’t tell if she was really upset or not. And while she might not have had a connection with her mother anymore, he was sure that the feeling of being hurt and betrayed was there somewhere, hidden deep down underneath the surface, along with all her locked memories.

A few minutes later, Eric pulled the Vista Cruiser into the bus station and the conversation lulled. Finding a spot to park, he kept the motor running for a bit—not just to keep the heater on but to give Jackie a chance to change her mind. He wasn’t going to stop her (she had asked him for a favour), but he wasn’t going to go out of his way to encourage her, either.

“Thank you for doing this,” Jackie said quietly. “I really appreciate you not asking me _why_ I wanted to leave the way I did.”

He shrugged, eventually turning off the ignition. “Hey, sometimes you have to burn a few bridges to keep the crazies from following you, am I right?”

She chortled softly and he smiled tightly. A part of him wanted to ask her why, but a bigger part of him didn’t want to betray the trust she had so willingly bestowed upon him. So Eric did something he normally didn’t do: he kept his trap shut.

“Was that a rhetorical question?” Jackie raised an eyebrow. “Or was the old ‘devil’ me known to literally burn down bridges?”

“Naw, your hellfire was figurative for the most part,” he said. “But you did know your way around a back-handed compliment.”

“Hmm, that’s good to know,” she said without much mirth, and he instantly regretted the quip the moment it passed his lips. Sometimes he forgot she wasn’t the same Jackie he once knew, even though she seemed to take his jokes a lot better than the old one did.

He stepped out of the car and walked over to the passenger’s side, opening the door with a flourish. “And you should also know that sarcasm is but _one_ of the services I provide, _m’lady_.” He offered her his hand and a warm, apologetic smile. “The other, obviously, is being the best damn personal chauffeur in all of Point Place.”

Jackie laughed and took his hand before stepping out of the Vista Cruiser. “And I appreciate _both_ services, really.”

Eric smiled, glad that he had recovered well enough. He grabbed the black duffel bag from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before motioning to Jackie. “You got enough money?”

She nodded and patted the rolled up bills in her pocket—the ones he had fetched for her from her sock drawer. The two of them then made their way over to the ticket booth and she paid the fee before taking the duffel bag from Eric, looping the strap over her shoulder.

He accompanied her to the platform where they both waited. The bus was scheduled to arrive in the next five minutes and he refused to leave her side until he saw her safely onto the bus.

“So, why me?” he asked after a moment of silence. There were only a few other people waiting around nearby. “Why did you ask me to take you here?”

“Convenience mainly.” Jackie shrugged. “You were the only one who came to look for me, and it’s not like I could have asked your mother. She would have probably tried to talk me out of it. She’s very convincing.”

Eric nodded emphatically. “It’s the baked goods and the honed art of motherly guilt-tripping.”

“Yeah, well, whatever it is it works really well.” Jackie smiled tightly. “But, really, it’s not like I had a lot of volunteers, and even if others were around, I wouldn’t have asked them.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Did she trust him more than the others? More than Donna? More than Hyde, the only one of the gang she had bothered forming a tenuous bond with?

“Donna and Fez would have tried to stop me. Kelso, I don’t particularly feel safe with behind the wheel of a car. He’d either drive me into another tree or try to feel me up, or both. And Hyde—” she shrugged indifferently “—well, I’m still not sure if he likes me all that much, so I don’t see him doing me favours any time soon.”

Eric thrust his hands into his pockets. “Hyde’s—well, Hyde’s complicated.”

“I’ll bet,” Jackie agreed humourlessly, and then lightly elbowed him in the ribs. “As for you, you seem like the pushover type.”

“You would not be incorrect.”

“But the one thing _I_ don’t get is why you’re not trying to stop me.” At Eric’s odd look, Jackie immediately held up her hands. “Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t a cry for help or anything like that. I’m not saying this to get you to stop me. I just—” she let out a protracted sigh “—you also seem like the type who’s easily cowed by his girlfriend. Isn’t Donna gonna give you the third degree when you come back without me?”

“Oh, Donna’s going to give me third degree _burns_ , and my mother might disown me, and Fez will probably cry and throw candy at me, but...” He paused, taking in a deep breath. “I kinda understand what you’re going through. Not the amnesia part—I have my memory intact, _unfortunately_ —but I understand the desire to go off on your own and discover yourself.”

“Yeah.” Her shoulders instantly relaxed. “You went to Africa, didn’t you? Your mother told me on one of her visits.” She glanced up at him with a look in her eyes he had never seen in Jackie before. Was it respect? “That takes a lot of courage.”

Eric suddenly felt very self-conscious and brought a hand to the back of his neck. This new honest and ‘nice’ Jackie was going to take some getting used to. “Well, so is what you’re doing right now.”

“I don’t know about that.” She was looking down at her boots.

“No, seriously.” He took a deep breath. “Look, you and I were never really friends, so I’m not saying any of this to get on your good side, but if I were in your shoes, I’d be terrified. But you, you’re actually doing something about it; you’re living your life. Going off on your own takes guts.”

Jackie bit her lip and the two shared a moment of silence. The only background noise was the quiet murmur of pedestrians walking by and the noise of the engines as buses lazily pulled onto the numbered platforms.

Eric wondered if he had overstepped his bounds with her, or had said something too dramatic or too stupid. He did have a habit of putting his foot in his mouth, but Jackie hadn’t rolled her eyes or told him to shut up. Instead, an appreciative smile surfaced on her lips and she nodded.

“Thanks, Eric.”

“You’re welcome, Jackie.”

And that was all that really needed to be said.

After another minute, Jackie’s bus finally pulled into the terminal and she handed the driver her ticket and luggage. She straightened her coat and smoothed down her dark hair before turning back to Eric, giving him a confident smile and a wave of goodbye.

“Jackie, hey, wait!” Eric jogged up to the platform and she turned around to face him. “Call us when you get to wherever you’re going, okay?”

“Will do.” She then gave him a mock salute before stepping onto the bus. “See ya later, _Kid_.”

He grinned. “See you soon, _Devil_.”

And with that Jackie Burkhart had turned her back on Point Place. She was off to start her own adventure and write a chapter in the new book that was her life. Eric couldn’t have been any more envious, or proud.

* * *


	12. Go Your Own Way

_24 March 1980_   
_Point Place, Wisconsin_   
_The Formans’ Basement_

 

“WHAT THE HELL were you thinking?”

“Obviously I _wasn’t_ thinking!”

Eric had left the bus station on a high, delivering self-congratulatory pats on the back for doing right by Jackie—or so he thought. When he returned home to find a confused and slightly inebriated Pam, a worried mother and an angrier than normal father, he realised he had grossly miscalculated his triumphant return.

When Hyde came home for lunch with Fez, Eric was almost certain his young life was over, especially when his best friend proceeded to drag him down into the basement to have a little ‘talk’.

“Forman, of all the stupid things you’ve done, _this_ is the stupidest.” Hyde’s thick fingers speared through his ’fro, clutching at curls so tightly that if in one jerking motion he’d be tearing them out by the roots. “Jackie’s travelling alone cross-country on a freakin’ bus. A bus! She might as well be hitch-hiking. Do you have any idea what could happen to her, man? Fuck!”

“I know! I know!” Eric slammed the heel of his palm into his forehead and swore softly. “I’m so stupid!”

“That is an understatement, my friend,” Fez chimed in. Although he wore the same grave expression as Hyde, Fez didn’t look nearly one-tenth as pissed off. Numbed was perhaps the best word to describe his countenance.

“I thought I was helping her, man. _You_ didn’t see her.” Eric pointed at Hyde and then Fez in defence. “Pam was being, well, Pam, and Jackie was quiet, like eerily villainous, plotting world domination sorta quiet. She needed someone and neither of you were here.”

“Don’t blame your stupidity on us!” Hyde’s hands had balled into fists that he kept tightly at his sides, contained but coiled for action.

“She was going to leave anyway, so I—” Eric threw up his hands in frustration. “Look, I know this doesn’t mean much, but I think I convinced her to call us when she gets to wherever she’s going.”

“Oh, well, _that’s_ helpful!” he spat, digging his fingernails into his palms. “ _If_ she makes it to wherever she’s going!”

There was no telling where Jackie was going or whom she’d meet along the way or what sort of danger she could be placed in. There was a very real possibility that she could be in danger, all because Eric had foolishly opted to play the chivalrous knight.

His thin chest instantly deflated at the dark images that flashed behind his eyes. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought—I was just trying to help her.”

“No!” Hyde rounded on him. “You enabled her, man. That’s not helping; that’s sending her off to the wolves!”

“She was already surrounded by wolves!” Eric snapped, and Hyde visibly flinched. “Look, man—” he swallowed hard “—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Hyde held up his hand and clenched it into a fist before heading up the stairs. “It isn’t me you should be apologising to.”

“Hyde, wait!”

Eric could only watch as his best friend bounded up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. There was no way anyone was going to stop him now. Hyde was a rolling stone and one hell of a stubborn mule when he was angry. Eric was likely to get a black eye if he tried to get in his way, so he decided to give Hyde a few minutes to settle down and walk it off, or wait for Red to right his ass.

Letting out a sigh, he turned around and plopped himself down on the sofa. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands.

“I can’t believe she didn’t ask me to take her,” Fez said, crestfallen. “I am her boyfriend.”

“You mean her _ex_ -boyfriend,” Eric corrected, lifting his head. “You broke up with her, remember?”

“Well, good on you, Eric!” he snapped, slapping a hand down on his hip before sizing up his skinny friend with narrowed eyes. “Those smarty pants look real fancy on you now, don’t they?”

Eric sighed. “Fez, I wasn’t trying to be flippant.”

The foreigner held up his hand in a halting gesture. “I don’t want to hear about your gymnastic moves in the bedroom, Eric. Donna flipping you around like a rag doll is delicious fun to watch, but I have no desire to talk about my needs right now. I am wounded. Wounded!” He patted his chest for emphasis and then snapped his fingers before pivoting on his heel. “Good day to you, sir!”

“But, Fez—”

“I said _good day_!”

Eric dropped his head back in his hands as the basement door slammed shut. This was turning out to be one hell of a day.

* * *

HYDE WAS LIVID.

He was mad at Eric, he was mad at Jackie, but most of all he was mad at himself. Rounding the top of the stairs, he slammed the basement door shut with such force that the hinges actually shook.

“What the hell is going on?” Red barked.

Hyde brushed past the fatherly figure and mumbled a tight-lipped apology before making his way through the kitchen to the veranda door. His escape route, however, was effectively blocked by a shocked-looking Kitty. Pam Burkhart sat at the small breakfast table with a glass of wine in hand, watching the scene unfold with wide, glazed-over eyes.

“Steven, honey?” Mrs Forman’s face was etched with concern as she tentatively reached out to touch his face. “Are you okay?”

He stepped back out of her reach, his jaw clenching. He didn’t want to have a talk or share his feelings. Right now all he wanted to do was find Jackie, get drunk and hurt someone, and not necessarily in that order.

He made to move past Kitty when Red’s large hand came down on his shoulder, stopping him mid-stride. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ve gotta find her.”

“No, you’re not.” He easily manoeuvred Hyde to the seat next to Pam and not so nicely encouraged him to sit. “You’re gonna stay right here and wait for her phone call like a grown-up.”

“What if she doesn’t call?” Red didn’t answer and a tic began to work in Hyde’s jaw. “I thought so.”

Tension filled the room as the Formans waited for their foster son to react, but it was Pam who breached the silence first.

“Oh, Jackie’ll be back,” she said, drunkenly trilling into her drink. “My Jackie’s always been little drama queen. She used to take off all the time when she was little.”

“And how would you know?”

She glanced up at Hyde, her brow slightly furrowing as she finally took notice of him for the first time. “Pardon me?”

“Did I stutter?” There was a low, dangerous timbre to his voice. He leaned forward. “I asked you a question, Pam. _How_ would you know what Jackie did when she was a kid? You were never around. You couldn’t even bother to visit her in the hospital when she was fighting for her life.”

She jerked back in alarm, startled by his anger. The confusion swiftly gave way to anger and she slammed her glass down on the table. Red wine slushed over the rim and splattered onto her hand.

“How dare you! You have no idea what my relationship with my daughter is like!”

“Is?” Hyde laughed bitterly. “What your relationship with Jackie is a fucking joke. It’s non-existent. You’re not her mother. You’re just some woman who gave birth to her.”

He was standing up at this point, bracing his hands against the table so he could lean right into her too tanned, too heavily made-up face.

“You’re nothing but a user, Pam. You use Jackie for what you need, abandon her and move on to your next mark, spreading your legs for any young boy or rich man who’ll have you.”

“Now you see here, I-I—”

“You have no fucking right to be here!” He slammed his fist down onto the table, making her jump back in her seat. “You have no right to sit there and play umbrage, pretending to be a concerned mother when all you care about is your daughter’s money!”

The room went shockingly quiet as Pam opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. “H-how rude!”

“Rude? _Rude_?” Hyde scoffed. “Who cares about manners, lady?” He pushed off the table and glared down at her in disgust. “ _You’re_ the reason Jackie left in the first place—all because you were just itching to get your gold-digging paws on her trust fund.”

“H-how dare you accuse me of such—of such—”

“Truths?”

He was staring her down as if he was almost looking for an excuse to hit her. Tension hung thick in the air until Kitty threw herself on the grenade and placed herself in between the two of them. She lifted her hands in a yielding fashion, pushing the Hyde and Pam apart as she laughed nervously.

“Ha-ha-ha! Okay, now, everyone’s upset here. Let’s all just cool off.”

Hyde was about to open his mouth and issue a scathing retort against Pam when Red’s strong hand clamped down on his shoulder again.

“Steven, go out to the garage. I’d like you to work on the Toyota.” He let go and slid open the veranda door, gesturing with a shooing motion. “Something’s rattling around in the carburettor. I need you to check it out.”

Hyde stared down Pam for another second before turning towards the door and exiting the house in a huff. Sliding the glass door shut, Red slowly spun around to face Pam and exhaled sharply.

“Pam, you had better leave.”

The tall woman blinked in confusion but stood regardless. “But what about Jackie?”

“Leave us with a number where we can reach you,” he said, kindly escorting Pam into the living room. “When she calls, we’ll call you.”

Pam nodded absently and walked over to the sofa. Opening her purse, she began to rummage through it until she found a small card and a pen. After scribbling down a number, she handed it to Red, who took it with pursed lips.

“Could I use your phone to call a cab?” she asked.

“Of course,” Kitty said with feigned politeness, directing the taller woman to the phone in the kitchen. Once the swinging door shut, Kitty walked over to her husband and sighed. “I have no idea how you can be civil to that woman.”

“I can’t exactly threaten to shove my foot up her ass, now can I?”

“I’d turn a blind eye,” Kitty said, before sounding off in tittering laughter.

Red shook his head but couldn’t hide the small grin on his lips as he slipped the card into his breast pocket. After a few seconds of silence, save Pam dialling for a taxi cab, the atmosphere shifted back to sombre.

Kitty nervously played with the hem of her apron, soundlessly working her mouth as she prepared herself to speak. “Now, Red,” she began in a soothing tone, like she was trying to talk him down from a ledge or from going to town on someone’s ass with his foot. “I know you’re mad at Eric for what he did, but—well, he doesn’t know the whole story about Jackie, now does he?” When Red failed to answer, Kitty forged on, “We both know Jackie would have left anyway. Her doctor said it’d be natural for her to wander, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“Just... Don’t be too harsh on him.”

“Yeah.” He let out a laboured sigh and brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose, staving off a headache that was forming behind his eyes.

He had been called home by Kitty shortly after Eric returned without Jackie. He had initially been furious with his son because of the potential risks to the girl’s health, but no one but himself, Kitty and the doctors knew about the Jackie’s potential heart condition—or that she was supposed to see a specialist next week in Chicago. Now that plan was nixed all thanks to the well-meaning intentions of his dumbass son.

“Where’s Hyde?” The dumbass himself had charged into the living room after only finding Pam in the kitchen. “Is he here?”

“He’s out in the garage working on Toyota.”

“Oh. I should probably go talk to him,” Eric said, sounding far from confident.

Before he could turn around, Pam was already back in the living room with a bright smile plastered on her face. The Formans collectively bristled with unease.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, but Red ignored her and pushed past the tall brunette.

“Eric, get in the kitchen.”

“Am I in trouble?” He eyed his father warily. “Are you going to take off your belt? You’re going to take off your belt, aren’t you?”

Red just grunted and grabbed his panicked son by the elbow, half-dragging him into the kitchen.

Eric swivelled his head around, directing pleading and pathetic looks at his mother. “Mommy, help!”

Kitty just pursed her lips in a tight smile and shooed her son away. “Eric, honey, just go speak with your father.”

Giving his mother a look like he was heading off to war, Eric complied and followed Red into the kitchen. Once the door swung shut behind them, he felt as though his fate (or doom) had been sealed. He didn’t much care for being yelled at by Hyde, but Hyde was a cuddly kitten compared to Red’s vicious sabre-toothed tiger.

“Look, Dad—” his hands were already held up in mock surrender “—I know I screwed up. I’m sorry. I should have never taken Jackie to the bus station when she asked me to.”

He chanced to look up and met his father’s gaze, expecting an issued threat about his foot up Eric’s ass, but it never came. Instead, Red let out a bone-tired sigh and leaned back against the kitchen counter, bracing the back of his palms on either side of his hips.

“Eric, I’m not here to point fingers or place blame. Were you a dumbass to let her go alone? Yeah. But we all knew Jackie wasn’t happy. Her mother—hell, all of us made sure of that. She was going to leave regardless if you helped her or not.”

“Really?” Eric tried to hide the genuine surprise and relief in his voice, but he was unsuccessful. However, despite the amnesty granted, the young man’s guilt couldn’t be so easily dismissed. “Still, I wish I could have at least tried to convince her to stay.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “I guess I could kinda see where she was coming from. She wanted to be free and take her own path in life without anyone telling her what she _should_ do or who she _should_ be. She felt trapped and, in my dumbass way, I wanted to help her break free.”

“And you thought letting her go by herself on some cross-country trek would help?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t really thinking about that.” Eric sheepishly scratched the back of his head, and Red rolled his eyes.

“Big surprise there.”

“I just wanted to help her,” he said. “I figured as long as she knew someone here understood her and wasn’t going to stand in her way, then well, maybe she might come to realise that everything’s not so bad here. Maybe she could come back home.”

Red nodded slowly. “We were all expecting too much from Jackie too soon. Her running away was inevitable.” He breathed deeply and gave his son a half nod. “You did what you thought was best for Jackie by respecting her wishes.”

“Yeah.” Eric exhaled slowly like a deflating balloon. “But Hyde was right. I didn’t have to enable her, and now everyone hates me.”

Red stood up off the counter and walked over to Eric, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Son, sometimes doing the right thing means standing alone. It means getting yelled at, taking the blame and having everyone hate you for it. There’s a reason why doing the right thing is the hardest thing to do.”

Eric glanced up at his father in shock, before a slow smile crept on his lips. “So is this a father-son bonding moment?” he hedged, pointing back and forth between them.

Red dropped his hand with a scowl. “You’re still a dumbass.”

“And there it goes...”

* * *

JACKIE HAD TAKEN the bus to Milwaukee, where she boarded Amtrak. She had chosen the Empire Builder route to Portland, Oregon. It was a forty-six hour train ride; however, it would be safer and cleaner than taking a bus. Moreover, it was a hell of a lot roomier since she had booked her own private room.

Jackie laid back in her seat with a sigh. Her eyes drooped shut as the gentle hum and clicks of the train gliding along the tracks lulled her to sleep. As she drifted, her mind became unfettered and the shackles of the real world slipped from her wrists. Sleep spindled her, wrapping her tightly in a cocoon of space until there was nothing but the void and the sound of her own voice...

 

**Hello, Ruby. We meet again.**

_Again? Who are you?_

**Me? I’m Jackie. I’m you.**

_You’re me? I see... This isn’t at all confusing, or disturbing._

**How do you think I feel having to share the same headspace with a girl who dresses like Donna?**

_Hey, I didn’t pack my suitcase!_

**Clearly. When you get to Portland, you’re going to have to buy a whole new wardrobe.**

_Yeah, I’ll get right on that._

**Ugh, you’re so difficult! Although... I have to say that I’m quite proud of you.**

_Proud of me? Why?_

**You’re going off on your own, going your own way—and you’re fleeing a hell of a lot farther than Chicago this time.**

_Chicago?_

**Yeah, the last time you took off like this, you went to Chicago. Of course you had to get Michael to take you there because you were so scared.**

_Uh, wouldn’t you be the one who was scared? After all, you were the one running away, not me._

**Whatever. Semantics. You, I— _we_ left for Chicago to fulfil our dreams, all because the one person we cared the most about in this world would rather get drunk with his friends than consider a life with us.**

_Huh? Who?_

**You know who...**

 

“Uhm, you guys, I gotta talk to Steven about something really serious.”

Jackie stepped past the two morons who mocked her with quips about her being pregnant or cheating and took the seat closest to her boyfriend. Her focus was entirely on Steven, who was slumped in his chair, looking both frightened and concerned.

“Steven, this TV producer called to tell me he loved my public access show, and then he offered me a job at his station in Chicago starting next week.”

“Whoa.” He sat up and cleared his throat. “You’re going to take a job and move to Chicago?”

“No-no, not yet. I wanted to talk about it first.”

She ignored the peanut gallery’s contribution to the conversation and leaned in close, clutching a hand to her breast.

“Steven, this is my dream come true. But you—” she pointed to him “—are the most important thing in the world to me. So I’m willing to give it all up and stay here with you. But _if_ I do that, I need to know we’re going to get married.”

“Jackie, we _just_ agreed not to talk about our future.”

“But our future is happening right now. Look—” she waved her hand “—the station needs an answer by noon on Sunday and I do, too.”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, I don’t know what to say right now...”

 

Jackie walked into the Pinciotti living room to find Donna and a decidedly drunk and pantless Eric kissing.

“Eric, you’re back.” She glanced expectantly about the room. “Uhm, where’s Steven?”

“Uh, okay.” Eric turned around to face her. “He’s passed out in the back of a beer warehouse.”

Her heart plummeted into her stomach. “He’s not coming. He’s going to say _no_!” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God!”

Her life was over.

* * *

JACKIE BOLTED AWAKE with a gasp. Her head was spinning and her throat was dry. She felt like she had swallowed sandpaper. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she tried to figure out which parts of her body were sore and which weren’t. There was a kink in her neck and her limbs felt unaccustomedly heavy, as if weighted down with lead. Tears stung her eyes and that was when she realised she had been crying in her sleep.

She touched her cheek just below the eye, pulling away fingers wet with saline. She rubbed them together with a frown. She didn’t feel sad, so why was she crying?

Shrugging off the question, Jackie wiped her hands down the front of her jeans and settled back into the seat. She stared out the window at the darkening landscape, watching the scenery pass her by, and sighed. There was no point in questioning the tears, not when she couldn’t rationally explain her behaviour.

Maybe it was the medication, maybe it was hormones or maybe she just had allergies. There were a lot of maybes and no definite answers. Thus was the story of Jackie Burkhart’s life.

* * *

HYDE WAS BENT over the carburettor, one hand holding a flashlight while the other fumbled about trying to locate the loosened cap that had fallen through. His fingers, wet with grease, slipped on the edge of the metal. It sliced jagged through the side of his palm like butter.

He pulled back his hand with a hiss and cradled it to his chest. Blood seeped into his yellow KISS tee, staining it crimson. He cursed a blue streak before locating a clean rag on the workbench and wrapped it around his injured hand. The bleeding had yet to stop, but he was hopeful that it wouldn’t require any stitches. Later he’d have to get Mrs Forman to clean and dress the wound properly, but right now he wanted to wallow in the throbbing pain that pulsated like a heartbeat. It distracted him from his thoughts.

However, the pain was only temporary, like all things in his life. His thoughts predictably drifted back to Jackie. Jackie alone; Jackie scared; Jackie hurt; Jackie raped; Jackie dying; Jackie dead. Every dark and disturbing scenario he could think of drove into his head like a rail spike, and he cursed the fact that despite what he had told Forman, this was all his fault. Jackie’s accident, Jackie running away—he couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Donna had told him he’d have to make a choice, but like with Chicago that choice had been taken from him. Jackie had left before he had the chance to swallow his pride and put aside his petty insecurities and fear of rejection. It wasn’t her fault, he had realised with bleak certainty; it was his. He should have made an effort to make her feel welcomed and safe, and he would have, eventually, had Pam not come along and fucked everything up.

Without thinking, Hyde turned towards the workbench and punched a fist through the plywood wall. He felt the middle two knuckles pop and sink inwards, dislocating at the joints. Tools shook and fell off the false wall onto the table with a clatter as the wood splinted apart. He drew back his hand and noted the already blackened and swollen middle two knuckles he had obviously done more than dislocate.

Fresh blood poured from the earlier-inflicted wound, and he brought his hand back up to his chest with a loud curse.

“You’re fixing that,” Red said, coming up from behind. He grabbed another rag off the bench and handed it to Hyde, taking a cursory glance at the young man’s mangled fist. “You should get Kitty to take a look at that.”

Hyde merely nodded before taking the rag and carefully wrapping it around his knuckles this time.

“You know, Steven, punching your fist through a wall doesn’t make you any more of a man than standing in a garage makes you a car.”

Hyde’s upper lip twitched as he tried his best not to snarl in pain. “You’re quite the wordsmith there, Red.”

“Shut your smartass mouth,” the older man ordered, although not entirely unkind. “You’re picking up Eric’s bad habits.”

“Opposed to his good ones?”

Red grimaced and took a step back, leaning against the back door of the Toyota. He hated having these sorts of talks. Two in one afternoon was more than enough to last him a lifetime.

“I know you’re sore at him for letting Jackie go, but she felt trapped here and I don’t blame her.” Red crossed his arms over his chest. “You were all expecting too much from her. She was bound to crack.”

“I get that. I do, but—” Hyde gritted his teeth in pain. His hand felt like it was on fire, and it hurt too much breathe let alone speak. “But it’s Jackie.”

“I know, son. I know.” Red pushed himself off the car and awkwardly patted the young man on the shoulder (there was way too much touching going on today for his liking). “How about we go inside and get Kitty to look at your hand. Jackie’ll call soon.”

Hyde swallowed thickly and nodded. Carefully cradling his hand to his chest, he followed Red back inside the house.

More than anything Hyde needed that call; he needed to know that Jackie was okay. Once again he found himself wanting to hear her voice again; needing it like a drowning man needed air. Because, frankly, he wouldn’t know any kind of peace until he knew for certain that she was safe and sound.

* * *

PORTLAND UNION STATION was a wide building with pinkish-grey sandstone-coloured walls and a large gaudy clock tower. On the other side of the tracks to the south was the Greyhound bus station, beyond that the hub of the city itself. Buses of all kinds—not just Greyhounds, but Trailways and American Pathfinders—ringed the terminals and pushed deep into the loading docks. From here, Jackie would take a bus to the town of Detroit, transfer and head straight to Breitenbush Springs.

Standing just outside the main entrance from the tracks, Jackie looked inside. The terminal wasn’t as crowded as she had hoped (safety in numbers), but at this time of the day and in the middle of the week, it was mainly filled with women and the elderly. Still, she guessed there were at least a hundred people milling about or sitting on the hard wooden benches and chairs.

She made her way towards the payphones, jumping slightly when she heard the muffled train announcements echo like the warbled voice of God from the loudspeakers overhead.

“Hey, miss! Miss, can you help me out here?”

She looked down to see a young black man with striking green eyes and a dirty afro sitting with his back against one side of the terminal entrance. He looked no older than she was. He might have even been younger.

“You got some spare change? Help a brother out?”

Jackie suddenly felt strange and faint, on the edge of some mental and emotional breakdown. Two days travelling by train and she had barely slept thanks to the rationing of her sleeping pills, which were soon running out. Whether it was lack of sleep or a trick of the eye, the terminal appeared to grow before her until it was as large and high as a cathedral. The room began to heave, like it was taking on water, and there was something oddly terrifying about the tidal movements of the people in its aisles and alcoves.

Once again that godlike voice was speaking through the speakers, announcing the next arrival. It reminded assembled travellers that the express train to Seattle would be departing from Gate 2 in twenty-five minutes.

 _I can’t do this_ , she thought suddenly. _I can’t live in this world._

But then the young man cleared his throat and held out his cap, shaking Jackie out of her daze. She reached into her pocket to fish out a dollar bill. She dropped it in his hat and he returned her charity with a dimpled grin.

“God bless, miss.”

She offered him a half smile and stepped past him, making her way to the payphones. Finding one free, she dialled a number and fed dimes and quarters into the machine until it was sated, and the call rang through.

“Hello?”

“Mrs Forman?”

“Jackie! Oh-oh, Jackie dear! Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m fine, Mrs Forman. I’m at Union Station in Portland.”

“Maine?”

“No, Oregon.”

“Oregon? Oh my goodness! Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good, Mrs Forman, just a little tired. I’m going to take a bus to Breitenbush. There’s a retreat there that I’m hoping to stay at for a bit.”

“Oh... Do you know for how long?”

“No, I’m not sure what I want to do yet. But a friend of mine at the hospital suggested this place. It’s a holistic retreat, so it might help me with my memories and such.”

“Oh, well that’s good then.” There was a brief pause. “You know, Jackie, you’re always welcome to come back here and live with us, whenever you’re ready.”

“I know, and thanks, Mrs Forman. I just—I just need some time to myself, where people don’t know me. At least for a little while.”

“I understand.” Another pause. “Jackie?”

“Yes, Mrs Forman?”

“You took off in a bit of a hurry—and no one here is blaming you—but you had an appointment with the cardiologist in Chicago next week and...”

“Oh, right, uhm... When I get settled at Breitenbush, I’ll come back to Portland and make an appointment. Could you, uh, maybe—”

“I’ll get in contact with your doctor here and have him recommend you to a specialist in Portland. We’ll send your medical information straight away. Don’t worry, dear. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Thank you, Mrs Forman. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me and I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t you dare apologise, young lady. You just get better, you hear me? We’ll all be here for you whenever you need us. Okay?”

“Okay.” Jackie couldn’t help but smile. “Uh, Mrs Forman, can you do me a favour?”

“Anything, dear.”

“Tell Eric the Devil says, ‘Thanks, Kid’.”

There was a longer pause this time and then Mrs Forman laughed. “I’m not sure what that means, but okey-dokey! Ha-ha-ha!”

“Well, I gotta go. I’ll call you when I arrive at Breitenbush. Take care, Mrs Forman.”

“You too, Jackie. Bye-bye.”

The other line went dead with a click and Jackie hung up the phone. Sighing, she turned back towards the terminal and glanced around before shouldering her bag. One leg of her journey was over and another was about to begin.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case any of you were wondering, there *is* a Detroit, Oregon. It’s the closest town to Breitenbush Hot Springs.


	13. Dream On

_9 April 1980_  
_10 miles ENE of Detroit, Oregon_  
_Breitenbush Holistic Retreat_

 

BREITENBUSH WAS PERCHED atop one of the lowest hills of the Cascades Range in western Oregon. The incline to reach the resort itself stretched over four miles, flanked by a happily wooded area still thickly covered with snow and with an entrance that greeted more than ten miles of winding landscapes, gravel paths and a glacier-fed river—all within the panoramic view of the Range itself.

With its narrow canyons, cascading streams and wooded slopes, the resort was already an idyllic nature-lover’s dream; the hot springs were just the proverbial icing on the cake. The hot springs were on site, created through a combination of volcanism and glaciation thousands of years ago—or at least that’s what Penny had told Jackie upon her arrival. All Jackie knew was that it was one hell of a trip to sit in a clear hot spring pool with temperatures ranging from one-hundred to one-hundred and nine degrees Fahrenheit while the outside air was just shy of thirty degrees and snowing.

The weather had been unseasonably cool this spring, especially in Portland and the surrounding areas. The higher the elevation, the colder the temperatures, and the hot springs did very little to heat the mountain air. In fact, they did nothing. Still, despite it being slightly colder here than in Wisconsin, which she thought was impossible short of living in Alaska, the brisk air and impressive forest scenery were as invigorating as they were relaxing.

Jackie hadn’t expected much from the retreat, other than the hope that she wouldn’t be confined indoors, and she would not be disappointed. If anything, the holistic retreat was sort of like a hippie convention, minus the smell and the free love and the copious psychedelic drugs, although there was still a fair amount of weed. Most of the clients frequenting were either New Agers or rich tree-huggers; surprisingly, most of them were fairly young, in their early twenties and thirties.

The daily activities, aside from nature treks and soaking in the springs, ranged from deep tissue massages to yoga to meditation—all derived from various cultures and techniques. The menu, though vegetarian, was surprisingly delicious, although Jackie wouldn’t touch the eggplant soup—or, as she liked to call it, Gross Purple Soup (it wasn’t _that_ purple, but whatever). The retreat certainly wasn’t a five star spa resort you’d find in the Swiss Alps, but it had its rustic charms. Most importantly, it had anonymity.

The staff was helpful and discreet, never pressuring her. They all lived on-site, which made servicing easier and twenty-four-seven. There were very accommodating. In fact, when Jackie first arrived, after impulsively hiring a taxi to drive her the ten miles to the resort from Detroit, she had asked the driver to stay, just in case there was no room or they turned her away for being so presumptuous to show up without booking. However, the staff had taken her in right on the spot (of course having money probably helped), and so began Jackie’s adventures at Breitenbush Hot Springs.

The resort was host to a wide range of educational and spiritual activities, but what Jackie really appreciated was the chance to escape and enjoy the solitude. Most of her time was spent reading in the library with its vast selection of classic novels, listening to music and even chopping and piling wood. Yes, Jackie Burkhart performed manual labour! But despite the small measures of inner peace she enjoyed at this spiritual resort tucked away in the middle of the forest, the dreams continued to persist.

She could never quite remember what they were about, only that the feelings that came over her upon waking were never pleasant. She felt uneasy and apprehensive, like she was waiting for something bad to happen. Sometimes she recalled a voice, though she couldn’t place it, and that voice had become an albatross hanging around her neck.

“Good morning, Ruby!”

Penny glided into the room, her footfalls as soft and silent as the hem of her dress swishing along the floor. She opened the curtains, allowing muted white light to flood into the room, and Jackie groaned in protest.

“How was your sleep?”

Jackie grumbled at Penny in response before rolling onto her stomach and hiding her head underneath the pillow. She had barely slept, as usual. Her sleeping pills had long run out, along with her options for getting to sleep.

Penny had suggested yoga, which did help a little, but with sleep came the nightmares and the voice. It was a win-lose scenario. She had also tried meditation, but all it did was bore her or send her into a sort of catatonic-like state, which apparently scared the hell out of the others, and even herself.

“That restful, huh?” Penny snorted and sat down on Jackie’s bed. “How about we take a trip to Salem? I can get a friend of mine to write you up a prescription.”

“Really?” She removed her head from underneath the pillow and turned tired brown eyes up at the former nurse.

Penny was a petite but sturdy woman in her late twenties with a perpetually youthful face. Her complexion was similar to Jackie’s, but lighter. She had the most beautiful cornflower blue eyes Jackie’d ever seen, and shoulder-length golden hair that was usually done up in a bun or some sort of twist. Best of all, she had the kind of dimpled smile that was nothing short of motherly.

“Really.” Penny placed a gentle hand on Jackie’s and squeezed. “You need your sleep, hon. You look terrible.”

She wrenched her hand back and sat up in bed, instantly awake. “Oh my God! Get me a mirror and some makeup, quick!”

When Penny’s eyes widened in surprise, Jackie smirked. She had been joking. Of course she was concerned about her looks (what teenager wasn’t?), but not to the point of obsession. Yet a part of her did cringe at the idea of not looking perfectly put together, but she pushed that voice deep down into her subconscious and told it to stay.

“Want me to curl your hair before breakfast?” Penny curled a lock of Jackie’s raven hair around her middle and index fingers, eyeing Jackie like a little girl would eye a doll she’d really like to dress up.

Jackie shrugged her assent before peeling back the covers and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet made contact with the cold wooden floors and she hissed, raising her feet back up off the ground. She should have slept in socks—and she did—but she always ended up slipping them off her feet in the middle of the night.

“I’m going to check on Anne now.” Penny tucked a stray golden lock back into its bun. “I’ll be back once you’re done your shower.”

Jackie mumbled an incoherent goodbye and placed her feet back down on the floor with a wince. Her feet had got used to the cold, just like she had got used to Penny. Though Jackie had been determined not to make any friends here, and to stay away from the hippies who mostly inhabited this retreat, Penny became an exception. She was friendly and caring and just a touch nosy, but in the best motherly sort of way. In fact, she reminded Jackie of a younger version of Mrs Forman.

Penny had told Jackie that she had once been a nurse at Oregon State Hospital, a state-run psychiatric hospital in Salem. The former nurse had seen gruesome things during her time there, and most of them hadn’t included the morning vegetarian buffet of undercooked eggs and purple soups. There had been nothing to prepare her for that line of work and there had been no option other than to fall into it and find out there was no way to quit it without the heart-wrenching scruples that followed.

During her tenure there, Penny had changed bandages and diapers, brought meals, administered drugs and opened curtains in the mornings with her usual check-ups—the latter was really just a veiled excuse to see whether the patient had hurt herself in the night, or to find a dead body hanging from the rafters.

Penny had helped grown women to the toilets, watched them weep when they couldn’t _go_ , held steadfastly onto their arms when their legs wobbled and they threatened to fall to the ground. She had listened to them cry about their dead babies—some imaginary, some real—and watched the silent ones just stare lifelessly out the windows.

At times things had got a little crazy. People had got a little crazy, too. The one day the other nurses had found young Penny standing barefoot on the courtyard in January, knee-deep in the snow and crying. The warden had recommended she fill in an open masseuse position at Breitenbush.

Jackie wondered why Penny hadn’t just quit. She could have declined the offer to move to a new clinic—albeit the holistic retreat was just that, a retreat—and said, ‘Thanks but no thanks. I think I’m gonna go start a new stage in my life right about now.’ But she didn’t. She packed her bags and moved on up to Breitenbush, to deal with weirdoes and hippies and a surprisingly large number of drug addicts, and became a masseuse and a yoga instructor.

Penny had told Jackie that she didn’t want to be a nurse, at least not for a while, but she still wanted to help people because that was what she loved to do. Jackie didn’t doubt the sincerity of her words, but her cynical side had suspected it had more to do with convenience. It was a lot easier to continue with what you knew rather than branch off into the completely unknown. There would be no support system in doing that, no sense of familiarity. She would have been going in blind, unsure, insecure and alone. Doing something totally different would have made her feel lost and, well, Jackie could relate to that.

While Penny’s position at the retreat was still considered to be in the vein of personal service care, the line of work was vastly different. Old habits died hard, and because of that there were three unusual things that Penny did at Breitenbush that no other employee did:  
  


  * She supervised the daily walks to the river.
  * She made the guests compose a list titled, ‘Reasons Why I Am Awesome’.
  * She always opened the curtains in the morning.



* * *

LIFE WAS SUPPOSED to get easier with Jackie gone. Everything was supposed to go back to normal. Hyde thought things were supposed to get easier, better. But were they?

Jackie was never supposed to get close to him the way she did. She was never meant to get inside his head. It wasn’t completely her fault. He was supposed to keep his head his own, to keep that last iota of distance between them in order to protect her and himself. Sometimes he swore she had mystical voodoo powers—the way she could creep into his dreams, even his waking thoughts. It was like she was still holding onto some minuscule part of him, holding it hostage, and he never noticed her footprints on his mind until it was too late.

_She’s stealing things you’ll never get back._

He threw his head back against the pillow and sighed. Here he was in the prime of his life, lying in bed on a Friday night. Why? Because of Jackie, that’s why.

He had been at the bar, looking more to drink than cruise for chicks, but a leggy blonde at the bar had caught his eye. She’d been doing that thing with her lips that girls often did when they were trying to ensnare you, and so he thought, why not?

The girl had been ready, willing and able. Between the kissing and groping, he had even discovered that she had a decent sense of humour. She sort of reminded him of Donna, which was a slight problem in itself. But even with her lips latched onto the pulse of his neck, whispering dirty words he had rarely heard outside of pornos, his mind refused to budge from one thought.

_Jackie._

An hour later he was resting on his back in his cot, cursing the brunette’s name. He kicked the blankets off in a fit of frustration and glanced down his body to see the tip of his cock peeking out through the top of his boxers, facing him like the barrel of a gun.

He grimaced. He was already hard at the mere thought of her. It figured.

Normally an erection was something he only had to worry about in the morning; something he took care of within seconds upon waking. Jacking off at night wasn’t something he regularly indulged. It was unsatisfying, and often his mind would drift to form the image of a certain petite brunette.

Then, as if on cue, fog of his mind stirred with his nether regions, taking on the shape of a woman. Hyde’s eyes narrowed, as if to help crystallise the vision and make it visceral. Yet it was nothing more than a pale reflection of the real thing.

_Her._

His erection caught his attention again and he tried in vain to ignore it. The head had turned a rosy pink, the corded veins hiding just underneath the skin. His hand, of its own volition, began to trail down his chest and past his navel, over the small thatch of curly hair before wrapping around the length and gliding up and down the shaft.

It didn’t feel right somehow, and the thought of satisfying himself all alone angered him. But his body was begging for stimulation and all he had was himself—a very important life lesson was embedded in there somewhere, he was sure. He had his memories of past conquests that he could retrieve at will to help with this moment or he could grab a nudie magazine from under his cot, but none of these options were good enough. Whenever he tried to focus on a single image, a blonde would become brunette, blue eyes would become brown, pale skin would become olive-toned.

 _Fuck, just go with it!_ he ordered impatiently.

Slowly Jackie’s image began to fill in the mould, but it was more than the visual. He could smell her, taste her, feel his tongue piercing through her soft folds and the weight of her body in his hands as she bucked against him, grasping at his curls as she gushed into his mouth.

He swallowed at the memory and his hand moved up and down his shaft a little faster. He wanted to feel her on top of him, inside her. He wanted to feel her tongue lapping against his skin, wanted to hear the sound of her breathing, softly moaning against his ear. He wanted to touch her all over, to relive the moment of feeling her body intimately possessed by his.

His back arched off the cot and he squeezed his eyes shut. A short series of grunts escaped his lips as he imaged himself pushing deep inside her, and then retreating as his shaft glistened with a shimmering sheen of her arousal.

He coated his bottom lip with a line of saliva, wishing someone else was here to lick it off. But even if Jackie was there with him, touching her would be a forbidden act. She was taboo now, no longer his. But it didn’t stop him from wanting her. And if he couldn’t have her in reality, he could touch himself while thinking of her. That way he could be in control.

Only he wasn’t.

His mouth fell open as he increased the pressure, his hand gliding up the length of his shaft before squeezing right underneath the circumcised hood and sliding over the sensitive head. He knew his body well. Sometimes he liked to take his time and other times all it took was a few strong pumps and he was done.

He envisioned Jackie’s small hand reaching back to cup his balls as she rode him; her long dark hair gliding over his chest as a wet tongue lapped at his nipple. The inferno was building inside him now, rushing to the surface to erupt. Tension built with every stroke, and with one hard tug and squeeze he detonated.

A hoarse groan filled the air as his hips continued to thrust into the palm of his hand, coating it with semen. His euphoria lasted for a while, longer than usual, and his hand limply fell away, bouncing against the iron-sprung mattress. He tried to regulate his breathing the best way he knew how and stared blankly at the ceiling.

He wasn’t satisfied.

He wasn’t satisfied at all.

* * *

ALL RATIONAL THOUGHTS slipped away in sleep, until gradually there was no world for Jackie but the world of dreams. Jackie Burkhart, Ruby Tuesday; none of that matter here. Nothing mattered.

Her dreams had become a keyhole to a whole new world, familiar yet foreign, revealing a shadowy maze lined with mirrors reflecting different version of herself. Each face had become a mask, and with each dream a new mask dropped to the floor, each more intricate than the last. It was deception married to prevarication, giving birth to the bastard child of pride.

There were truths to her dreams too, and discovery, but there was also great pain. It was here that a menacing figure stalked her every movement, drawing closer and closer until he would have her. No matter how many times she twisted and turned and darted through and doubled back, he would find her.

He... or she?

The concept of dreaming was known to the waking mind, but to the dreamer there was no waking, no sanity. There was only the fragmented reality and the bedlam of sleep. But what happened when that fragmented reality chose to leave to the confines of the sleeping world to inhabit the waking one? She had yet to dwell on such a frightening concept, for she was too busy fleeing from her tormentors, self-imposed or otherwise, waiting for the moment when Ruby would decide it was time to wake up to the light.

“Good morning, Ruby!”

Jackie jerked awake in time to see Penny thrusting open the curtains. The bubbly woman gazed down at Jackie with a dimpled smile before sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“It’s a lovely day out today. I was thinking about leading a group down to the river for some meditation. You wanna come?”

Jackie mumbled incoherently into her pillow before turning onto her side with a grunt. She drew the blanket up over her head and Penny respectfully took that as her cue to leave the room. Once the door was shut, Jackie rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes, stretching her limbs to every corner of the bed like a starfish on the beach.

Five minutes passed and the birds became insistent with their songs, causing her to wrinkle her brow in annoyance. She blinked repeatedly to clear the sleep out of her eyes and absently ran her fingers through her hair. After a moment she sat up, stretching her arms over her head as she tried to work the kinks out of her back.

Her bare feet made contact with the cold wooden floor and she hissed, again. She’d really have to get a throw rug in here or train herself to stop taking off her socks in the middle of the night.

After sorting herself in her private washroom, Jackie padded over to the bureau and rummaged through the drawers until she found the clothes she was going to wear for the day. She then stacked the clothing neatly on top of the dresser and switched on the radio. Steven Tyler voice crackled through the speakers and Jackie picked up her brush and began untangling the stray knots in her hair.

 

  _Every time that I look in the mirror_  
_All these lines on my face getting clearer_  
_The past is gone_  
_It went by like dusk to dawn_

 

   
The brush caught in her hair and she frowned, staring at the radio so intently it looked as though she was trying to burn a hole in it with her vision.

 

 

_Isn’t that the way?_  
_Everybody’s got the dues in life to pay_

 

“Shut your big fat mouth, Steven Tyler!”

She snapped off the radio dial with a click and gathered her clothes before stomping off to the showers. Her personal cabin was only equipped with a bed, bureau and a room for a toilet and a sink. There was an entirely separate cabin for the showers: one for women and one for men. Luckily no one was in the woman’s showers this early in the morning, so Jackie was able to shower in peace and soak up all the hot water.

She stood underneath the nozzle of the spray, feeling the water pound away at her heat-reddened skin and alleviate her stress. She let out a contented sigh and tilted her head back. One of the great things about this place was the unlimited hot water and how good it felt on her skin. She felt more relaxed now than, well, ever—at least according to her limited recollection.

Still, it felt like there was a void in her life—a void she couldn’t name. It was like a gaping hole where all of her memories had tumbled into. She didn’t feel connected to anyone or anything, and more than ever she had begun to feel disconnected.

Penny had suggested activities to help with her memory, aside from meditation. One of those activities was to start a diary; not just to record her current activities, but to ask herself questions she often thought of but never vocalised aloud. Jackie had obliged the woman, in secret, and wrote a few pages here and there. They were inquisitive and seemingly innocuous questions that would always come from odd moments of courage and self-loathing:

‘Did I have any special talents? Was I a nice person? Did people like me? Was I ever in love? Did anyone really love me?’

The sentences were always erased within the next few minutes or, more often than not, drawn through with bold double lines. Two lines would become three, then four, then five—a myriad of verticals, diagonals, horizontals and even a few circles—until they all met together to form an indiscernible pattern.

Sometimes next to the smudge of ink she’d draw an arrow that pointed towards it and on the other end write, ‘Word vomit!’ But every time she’d rip the page out and crumple it in her fist and try to sink it into the waste bin at the end of her bed and almost always missed. Then she’d turn her attention to her hands, staring intently at the ink stains on her fingers, imagining the blue smears as a sort of cancer—swelling and spreading, slowly breaking down her body until there was nothing left but bone.

And those were the _good_ days.

“Hey! You’re going to prune up if you stay in there any longer!”

Penny rattled the shower door, scaring the hell out of Jackie. She clutched at her chest as if her heart was trying to escape from its bone cage.

“Penny, you goober!” She was huddled up against the side of the stall, trying to slow down her heart-rate. Her heart beat erratically for a few seconds and, after catching her breath, she banged on the door. “Stop doing stuff like that! You’re gonna give me a heart attack!”

Penny just laughed. “I thought you were trying to drown yourself.”

Jackie wondered if Penny really believed that and if this was just an excuse to check up on her. How long had she been in the shower, anyway? She glanced down at her hands and noted the puckered flesh with a grimace. Okay, so maybe she had been in there for too long.

“Coming for breakfast?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She turned off the tap. “I’m coming! Hold your horses!”

After drying herself off and getting dressed, Jackie made her way to the main cabin to meet up with Penny. She meandered up the shovelled path, her boots crunching in the snow, when she looked up to see a taxi waiting in driveway. A tall girl with long, straight honey-brown hair awkwardly stepped out of the vehicle. She was wearing what looked to be a cast boot on her right leg.

“Chloe?”

The girl turned around and a look of recognition sparked in her silver-grey eyes. “Hey!” She waved excitedly before hobbling towards Jackie. “Hey, how’s it going, man?”

“Good.” Jackie nodded slowly, tucking her hair behind her ear as she watched the taxi drive away. “I was wondering when you’d get here. I came here on my own, just like you suggested.”

“That’s awesome!” Chloe pumped an energetic fist in the air and grinned at Jackie before a nonplussed expression settled on her features. “Uhm, so who are you again?”

Jackie clucked her tongue along the roof of her mouth and nodded. Yup, definitely Chloe.

* * *


	14. Nervous Breakdown

_8 May 1980_  
_Portland, Oregon_  
_The Holiday Inn_

 

BLONDIE’S _CALL ME_ was playing loudly on the radio. Chloe danced offbeat to the song while Jackie was off in her own little world. She leaned against the wall and stared out the hotel window onto the streets below. It was a busy Friday night in Portland and the city streets were bustling.

Jackie and Chloe took a bus into the city every weekend to check out the night life ever since they befriended two transplants from California, Mandy and Tiffany Kant. The two socialite sisters had arrived at Breitenbush a few days after Chloe. Their mother had sent them there to detox for the month before meeting up at their new place in Seattle. However, Tiffany and Mandy hadn’t strictly adhered to their mother’s plan. The two sisters had been doing anything but detoxing.

Jackie turned away from the window and examined her magenta blue nails. She wasn’t really a fan of Mandy and Tiffany, but the sisters were nice enough, and fun. Plus, Chloe seemed to like them. But then Chloe liked everyone. The one thing the sisters were useful for was getting them into bars. They had fake IDs coming out of their asses and seemed to know every bouncer in town, despite being new to the area.

“Let’s go check on Tiffany and Mandy,” Jackie said, pointing to Chloe’s purse on the double bed. “Don’t forget your ID.”

“I woooon’t,” Chloe sang, before turning off the radio and pocketing her ID. “So why doesn’t Oregon have the same age limit for drinking as Wisconsin does?”

“I dunno. I think it’s different in all states.”

Jackie then breezed past Chloe and knocked on the door to the adjoining room. She didn’t bother for an invitation before entering. Clothes were scattered everywhere, on the floor and the double beds, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. In the middle of the room was a coffee table and on it was a small mirror, a razor, a rolled up twenty dollar bill and the remnants of familiar-looking white powder. The sisters must have started the party without them.

Mandy, the youngest, was dancing to the same song Chloe had on earlier. Seventeen years old, she was the poster-child for the cute girl next door. She had long legs, strawberry-blonde hair and the most stunning green eyes Jackie had ever seen.

The eldest sister, Tiffany, stepped out of the bathroom in a towel. She was twenty, tall, runway model-thin, blue-eyed and blonde.

Jackie’s eyes trailed over the willow blonde scornfully. “You’re not dressed yet. Why am I not surprised?”

“Perfection takes time,” Tiffany said, coiffing her damp hair. “I only need half an hour.”

“A half an hour to pussyfoot around before you decide on what you’re going to wear. Then it’ll take you another hour to actually get dressed, do your hair and put on your makeup.”

Tiffany placed a dainty hand on her hip and scoffed. “Why are _you_ so bent out of shape?”

“Because I hate waiting.”

“C’mon, Ruby.” Chloe nudged the petite brunette. “You know how Tiff is. She needs time to get pretty.”

“You take that back!” Tiffany screeched.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Chloe.” Jackie smirked and teased her fingers through soft, sleek curls. “She’s not a natural beauty like myself.”

Jackie was done up a little bit punk, a little bit rock and roll—comfortable yet stylish. She was wearing a dark grey Ramones t-shirt that looked like she had bought in the kids’ section, and a pair of stonewashed jeans that were all but painted on. To give herself some height, she wore a pair of black lace up ankle boots with steel-tipped laces. Her hair, which was normally held in a ponytail, was down in loose waves. She wasn’t a fan of the poofy teased hair with God-awful bangs look that so many girls seemed to be sporting on the West Coast.

Tiffany muttered a few choice words; something to the effect that she could always count on Ruby for her sensitivity, but Jackie just shrugged and broke into their mini bar. While Jackie indulged herself, Chloe was stretched across Mandy’s bed, flipping through a magazine and waving her feet in the air like a little kid. Her cast boot had been taken off a week ago and she was still revelling in the feeling of having a working leg again.

Tiffany continued to agonise over what to wear and that’s when Chloe sat up and lit a joint. She passed it around and Jackie took a hit, but Mandy waved it off, still dancing. Tiffany was too busy to acknowledge the offer. Besides, the two sisters were more into sniffing and injecting their drugs of choice. Jackie couldn’t handle either method: she hated needles and had only snorted cocaine once. It made her heart race and her head hurt like a bitch. It reminded her of her time spent in the hospital, minus the mellow feeling that the Demerol had given her, and she wasn’t keen to experience that again.

Jackie preferred drinking or smoking a joint to achieve her Zen—and to drown out the persistent voice that frequently occupied her headspace. The voice came with the dreams and the dreams had only got worse, to the point where she would have flashes during the day; some of which she remembered, but most she forgot upon waking. The dreams wouldn’t have been so bad if they held any meaning. Instead, they were vague and indecipherable, like entering a conversation in medias res.

Jackie’s sanity was currently hanging on by a thread, and the only thing that offered relief was drinking herself into oblivion. Mandy and Tiffany had been a somewhat welcome distraction. They had easily persuaded Jackie and Chloe to accompany them to Portland every weekend, leaving the confines of the retreat. In the city they would shop, as well as haunt the numerous bars and nightclubs. They’d dance and drink and get high, until Jackie could no longer hear the voice in her head and would finally pass out in a dreamless sleep.

The club they were going to tonight was called Satyricon, the most popular underground nightclub in Portland. It just so happened to showcase all of the up and coming rock and punk bands on the West Coast. Jackie wasn’t exactly a fan of the screaming punk rock, but the drinks were free and the wailing music distracted her from her own thoughts.

An hour later, Tiffany was finally ready. The girls took a taxi to Old Town. Flashing their fake IDs at the bouncer at the door, they were quickly ushered inside the club. Well, it wasn’t a much of club as it was a converted tavern. However, it was dark and well-hidden and offered live performances of some rather well-known bands.

The place was just beginning to fill up when they made their way inside. The place was hot and dark, reeking of booze and sweat, and the music playing in the background was nothing short of deafening. It was the perfect atmosphere for getting shit-faced.

Tiffany leaned over and yelled in Jackie’s ear. “Hey, you wanna get something to drink?”

“Sure.”

Mandy and Chloe went to the stage to check out the opening band and Tiffany led Jackie through the milling crowd to the bar area, which was the only spot in the joint that was properly lit. One of Jackie’s favourite bartenders, Mick, was working tonight. He winked at her and she smiled back, holding up four fingers and ordering the usual.

“Well, if it isn’t Ruby Tuesday.”

Pivoting on her heeled boots, Jackie glanced up to see a devastatingly handsome man in his late twenties-early thirties, with dark hair and blue eyes. His name was Paul and he was the current club owner of Satyricon. Originally from South London, he captivated women with his accent and dimpled smile.

“Who could hang a name on you?” he quipped with a devilish smirk, before moving in closer. The scent of his cologne greeted her a few seconds before his muscular arms wrapped around her body.

“Only me,” she retorted dryly, before pulling back.

Paul just laughed and leaned in to hug Tiffany next, giving her a peck on each cheek.

“Glad ta see you two birds here again.” He ran a miscreant finger through one of Jackie’s curls and tugged. “You do pretty the place up.”

“Well, it _is_ the only happening club in Portland,” Tiffany said with an upturned nose.

Paul dropped his hand from Jackie’s hair and turned to Tiffany, his smile never faltering. “An’ that’s why business is so good.”

Tiffany smiled and stepped in closer to Paul. As she schmoozed with the owner, Jackie took three of the drinks from Mick and manoeuvred her way through the thickening crowd. Chloe and Mandy were up at the front, talking with a few of the roadies, and Jackie handed them their drinks. Taking a sip from her own, she strolled over to the left of the stage and looked over the old promotional posters hanging on the wall. That was when she felt the warm tap of a finger on her shoulder.

“Hey, baby, I saw you at the bar,” a deceptively masculine voice purred. “You’re one fine piece of ass. Wanna ditch this scene and go back to my place?”

Jackie turned around, her expression unamused. “I dunno. Can two people fit under a rock?”

“Huh?”

She simply rolled her eyes at his slack-jawed response and pushed past the nondescript sleazebag to rejoin her friends at the stage. Angered and confused, the guy reached out to grab Jackie by the arm and spin her around. However, his grip went limp when Paul intervened, seizing the man by the throat.

“Hands off the brunette, lad,” Paul growled, before letting go and leaving the man to security. He turned to face Jackie. “You okay, luv?”

She nodded. “I’m cool. Thanks, Paul.”

“No problem, doll.” He gently cupped her chin and she winced. “Don’t want my prettiest patron to be manhandled.”

“What about me?” Tiffany pouted. “I thought I was the prettiest.”

Paul dropped his hand and fastened a wide grin on his face. “Oh, don’t be jealous, poppet. You’re easily the fittest blonde here tonight.”

“Uh-huh.”

Ignoring their blatant flirting, Jackie finished her drink and went back to the bar to order shots. The club was already filling up to capacity as the opening act warmed up.

The first time Jackie had come here was when the Ramones had headlined. The place had been so packed that she could hardly move. As tiny as she was, she was swept up in the crowd and surfed from one end to the other. It had been oddly fun, perhaps the most fun she’d had since, well, since she could consciously remember. It was one of the reasons she kept coming back to this place.

Tonight the opening act was Wasted Effort, headlining for the hardcore punk rock band, Black Flag. She preferred the more mainstream punk bands, like the Ramones and the Sex Pistols, if one could call them mainstream. However, the music was loud and distracting, and the drinks were free.

Once the music started, Jackie joined the girls near the stage and lost herself in the noise and the booze and the rush of the crowd. Time flashed by. When the band finished their last set and the roadies began preparing for the headliner, Jackie went back to the bar for a refill.

Her head was pounding; whether it was from the music or the regular migraines she experienced, she wasn’t sure. With a wink and a nod, Mick set her up with another drink and a few shots to dull the pain. She downed the shots first, burning a hole in her gullet, and idly wondered if she had ever handled this much alcohol pre-amnesia. Despite her petiteness, Jackie—Ruby Tuesday—could handle a ridiculous amount of alcohol.

With the music no longer a constant deafening roar in her eardrums, Jackie began to eavesdrop on the surrounding conversations. It wasn’t something she normally did, especially not at a bar, but she admittedly felt a perverse fascination whenever she tuned into strangers’ lives. She couldn’t be retrospective about her own life, so why not spy on others?

The current couple she was observing were standing not too far off at the side of the bar. The girl looked to be in her early twenties, tall with long red hair. She sort of reminded Jackie of Donna, except this girl had better fashion sense. The guy with her was equally tall, well-built and handsome, with a thick head of wavy brown hair. He looked like the kind of guy you’d see modelling underwear in magazines.

Man-pretty.

The girl didn’t look happy with Mr Man-Pretty, especially when he leaned into to kiss Ms Red full on the lips and cupped one of her breasts. She yelped angrily and shoved him hard.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What? Like you didn’t want this when you asked me to take you out tonight.”

“I wanted to go out because one of my favourite bands is playing. I wanted to have a fun time!”

“Exactly, a _fun_ time. Since you and Andrew aren’t together anymore, I thought we could, y’know, do it.”

“Pig!”

“Not right here, obviously! We can go back at your mom’s place or maybe a quickie in the bathroom.”

“You’re fucking disgusting, you know that?”

“Me? What have I done other than read your signals all night long?”

“Signals? Andrew and I are on a break—a break! It’s only been a few hours and you try something like _this_ , expecting me to bite? I’m not that fucking insecure, Kevin.”

“Whoa, baby, settle down.”

“Baby? Baby! You know what—I thought you were Andrew’s friend. I thought you were _my_ friend. Guess I was wrong. See yourself home. I’m taking a cab.”

The redhead shoved past the pretty boy and headed for the exit. Jackie watched her go with a frown. Something about the conversation, or argument, had struck a chord with her. Maybe it was the girl or maybe it was the guy, but _something_ about the whole scene made her feel angry and sick.

Shrugging it off, Jackie made her way back to the dance floor as Black Flag took to the stage. The crowd erupted in cheers, surging her forward as the band began to play. Once settled back on her feet, Jackie sipped her drink and occasionally pumped a fist in the air, letting herself get absorbed in the atmosphere.

**Now, you see—that girl did the right thing by telling that guy off.**

_What?_

Jackie went stock still. It was that voice again.

She glanced nervously about, scanning the crowd. Maybe she had heard someone else. Maybe the loud music was messing with her hearing. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be _that_ voice—not here, and certainly not now. Ruby Tuesday didn’t hear voices. Ruby Tuesday wasn’t insane.

**If only we were as smart as her.**

Jackie inhaled sharply before tipping back her drink, draining the last of the dregs in one large gulp. She hissed and gritted her teeth as the liquid burned down her throat. She hoped it would help block out the voice, or at least dull it.

It didn’t.

**We couldn’t be alone, could we? We were always so terrified about being alone. We wallowed in self-pity and needed to feel better about ourselves, didn’t we? Yep, that’s us. We certainly knew how to screw things up for ourselves, didn’t we?**

_Shut up._

**We blew it. We blew it cause we were so insecure about being alone—cause _I_ was so insecure about being alone.**

“Just shut up!” Jackie mumbled, taking the drink from the guy standing next to her and downing it in one shot.

“Hey! That was mine!”

**We had everything we wanted and we threw it all away like it meant nothing.**

_Shut up._

**Like _he_ meant nothing.**

“I said, SHUT UP!”

A few people standing around her glanced at her sideways, and the guy whose drink she had stolen slowly backed away. The song had just ended and Jackie’s eyes darted around the room. She felt caged, panicked, and so she carefully slipped out of the crowd and headed for the bathroom.

She had to get away.

She had to get away now.

**We always mess things up. _Always_.**

Jackie clawed at her temples, trying to get the stupid voice to be quiet, but it wouldn’t. It never shut up.

She could taste salt at the back of her throat and she knew she was going to be sick. However, before she could make it to the line-up at the bathroom, a sudden sharp pain stabbed her through the heart and she doubled over in pain. Her breath came to her in rapid, wheezy gasps, and she clutched at her chest as if it were the only way to keep her rapid beating heart behind its ribbed cage.

She slumped against the wall and slowly slid to the grimy floor, landing on her tailbone with a thump. Everything hurt all over, and yet her head felt light, weightless. Her pulse was thready and weak, and her vision was beginning to dim. The roar of the crowd and the music lessened to an echoing cry, tinny and hollow. Her head began to spin, a dizzying vertigo, and then a hazy memory surfaced, bobbing like a reed on rippling waters.

 

_“Come in.”_

_“Hey.”_

_“S****n! What, uh, what are you doing here?”_

_“Uh, nothin’. Had some free time. Thought I’d check out Chicago. How’s it going?”_

_“Uhm, good... Hey, did you want to take a walk, maybe get something to eat?”_

_“Jackie, I checked. No one can see us doin’ it from the parking lo—H**e!”_

_“You’re dead.”_

 

The memory circled and circled, maddening like a sluggish fly, and Jackie groped for its meaning. But then the sights and sounds of the memory began to fade to nothingness, as did her reality, and Jackie swiftly drifted into darkness.

* * *

AT FIRST HYDE could only register a ringing sound, buzzing in his eardrum like a swan song, a pitch never to be heard again. After that came the pain, thudding and dull, but persistent. Before that he remembered darkness.

Did that mean he was making progress?

He tried to move but found his limbs uncooperative. His eyelids felt like sandpaper, and he slowly blinked them open to a blurry haze. The pain grew exponentially, somewhere below the sounds and behind his eyes, beating like a pulse. He had no idea where he was or what time it was, and he didn’t care to know either. For a hot second he wished he was dead, but through the pain-soaked fog that filtered through his mind like a summer storm-cloud, he didn’t know he had wished it.

What the hell was wrong with him?

_You drank so much that you blacked out, dumbass._

Oh right, he was hungover.

For the past month, Hyde had been drinking himself into oblivion. Every weekend, starting on a Friday night and ending somewhere around Sunday afternoon, he’d binge. Beer, hard liquor, pot, cigarettes; rotate and repeat. He was becoming everything his mother said he would be: a burnout loser. It seemed like he had been on a never-ending binge since Chicago.

Things had eased up since Jackie’s accident. Faced with her near-death had sobered him quickly. However, once she left for Oregon, all the bad started up again. Drinking, smoking, womanising—they were all just distractions for him. The old Jackie would have told him that he was smarter than this, and he was. He knew he had to get his fucking shit together, and soon, before he did something really stupid, like marry another stripper.

A spasm ran through his hand then and he clenched it hard, trying to relieve the cramp. That was when he realised he had finally regained his sense of movement. Hyde made to sit up and let out a groan of pain, falling back down onto the cot with a grunt. His body was sore all over, but what was really confusing was that he seemed to be clutching something tightly in his fist.

He raised his hand to his face and frowned at what he saw. It was an old school photograph of Jackie. She was hamming it up for the camera, tilting her head to the side and pouting her lips, giving that pirate smile of hers. He must have fallen asleep with her picture in his hand, clutching at it like some pathetic lovelorn bastard.

He set the photograph down on the shelf beside the cot and palmed his face with a groan. Why couldn’t he get her out of his head, even when he was three sheets to the wind? It was like he was suffering from highway hypnosis, simultaneously experiencing an altered state of awareness and dissociation from the conscious mind. One stream of consciousness was driving the car, performing everyday tasks, while the other stream of consciousness was focussing on her. It just seemed like no matter how absorbed he was in his distractions (drinking, smoking, fucking), his thoughts always made their way back home to Jackie.

Hyde yawned wanly then, patting his open mouth with his fingertips until his jaw relaxed. He picked up his watch from the shelf and grimaced at the time. It was almost three o’clock, the most stagnant hour of day or night. He felt drunk and still had no idea what had happened the night before. He didn’t know if he wanted to know.

He sat up in bed and held his face in his hands for a moment, before running his fingers through his ’fro. He glanced down at himself, his vision slightly blurred, to see that he was fully dressed. He grunted in half-amusement. At least he hadn’t thrown up on himself; that was something.

A vein stood out on his forehead and he clenched his fists. He had a feeling he had got drunk and made out with some bar trash. The mixture of beer, whiskey and cheap cigarettes soured in his mouth, along with the shame. He really needed to stop drinking so damn much.

He stood up with a weary groan and stumbled towards the door. He needed to take a piss. After voiding his bowels and splashing some cold water on his face, he made his way towards the sofa. The TV was on, airing some afternoon hockey game, and he could see the back of what looked like Forman’s head, which was confirmed when the lanky man turned around.

“Well, look who’s finally up.”

“The sound of your girlish giggling woke me.”

Forman rolled his eyes and turned back to the television. “You’re just lucky Red’s not here to see you sleeping in so late.”

“I think I’d probably welcome a foot up my ass right about now.” Hyde rubbed his eyes with a painful sigh. “It’d distract me from this raging hangover.”

“You did go at it hard last night, and the night before that for that matter.”

“What happened?”

Forman shrugged indifferently. “Not exactly sure, man. I didn’t go out with you. I had to open early this morning, remember?”

“Fuck!” He dropped his hand. “Who’s looking after the store right now?”

“Glenn, the guy you hired three weeks ago.”

Hyde’s shoulders instantly relaxed. “Ah, right.”

He tried to picture the twenty-something punk and heavy metal dude, and failed. He’d be lucky to pick out a banana in a line-up right now. However, he figured the new guy would be okay by himself for a little while. Sundays were relatively slow at the Grooves. He’d head over to the store in an hour so, after he had a shower and something to eat. The first thing he needed to do was have something to drink. He had dry mouth bad.

After a quick trip to the kitchen, he returned to the basement with a glass of water, two aspirin and a packet of crackers. He sat in his chair and picked up a magazine from the table, flipping through it for an article to read. Anything to jog his memories and divert his attention from the raging hangover, or Jackie for that matter.

“So Jackie called yesterday,” Forman said, gauging Hyde’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. “She’s coming home.”

Hyde merely grunted and took a sip of his water, trying to read the magazine, but failing. His mind was whirling. Jackie, Jackie, Jackie. It was like the world was not going to let him forget her.

“Well, to be precise, I’m picking her up in Oregon,” Forman said. “She still refuses to fly and Mom won’t let her take the bus or the train.”

“So _you’re_ picking her up?”

“By order of Kitty and Red Forman,” he said, before dramatically pointing to himself. “Plus, Jackie just so happens to feel safe with The Kid behind the wheel.”

Hyde frowned into his drink and muttered, “Sure she does.”

“I have a meeting with Financial Aid on Tuesday, so I’ll be leaving Wednesday.” Forman shot up from the sofa then and retrieved a popsicle from the deep freeze. “I’ll need a week or so off—three days to get there, three days to get back.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Forman sat back down on the sofa and Hyde stared at him idly for a moment, shaking the few remaining drops of water around in the bottom of his glass. Then he finished his drink in one slow swallow and went back to his magazine.

This time he really couldn’t keep his mind on the words. His thoughts immediately drifted back to Jackie. He remembered her a few days before she left for Oregon, casually sitting with him on the sofa as though nothing bad had ever happened between them. Next he remembered the night in the basement before she left for Milwaukee. He thought of the way her eyes had narrowed and how she had pushed her dark hair away from her face when he had asked her why she was there.

The memories shifted, back to other times they had spent together on the sofa. Happier times. Laughing, touching, kissing. Her fingers scratching at his sideburns and tracing over his lips, his cheeks and jaw. His hands roaming her body freely and the little happy gasps he drew from her lips.

Fond memories of youth.

A feeling of tenderness came over him then, and he suddenly felt uneasy. Restless, he turned his attention back to the magazine and gritted his teeth, unable to focus on a damn word. He threw the magazine down on the table with a huff.

Like it or not, there was no way he was going to get Jackie Burkhart out of his head or his heart any time soon.

* * *

JACKIE SAT PATIENTLY in the doctor’s office, lacing and unlacing her fingers before smoothing her palms down her thighs. She hated waiting for medical diagnoses, but perhaps not as much as she hated _hearing_ medical diagnoses. It was one of the reasons she avoided keeping in touch with the cardiac specialist in Portland for so long.

Originally, her trip this weekend to Portland had been a two-fold agenda: to hit the night life and shop, and finally to meet with her cardiologist Monday morning. However, since her fainting spell Friday night, plans had changed. For one, she was still at the hospital.

Due to her recent trauma, the doctors had decided to keep her there to monitor her heart. Once she had arrived at the ER, the admitting nurse had called Jackie’s emergency contact, who just so happened to be Mr and Mrs Forman. Mrs Forman had recommended (demanded, really) that Jackie return home as soon as possible so that the nurse could personally monitor her health.

Jackie had reluctantly agreed, on the condition that Mrs Forman didn’t share this information with the others. The fainting episode had scared her enough to make her consider returning to Point Place, and the doctors all agreed that being in the care of a nurse would be best for her. The most renowned cardiology and neurological hospitals in North America were in states like Illinois and Ohio, so it only made sense for her to be closer to those facilities. Plus, she still had to settle her finances if she wanted to pay for all the impending treatments.

Just then the door to the waiting room opened and Dr Pearson stepped inside. He was a young doctor, tall and slender with a pleasant, if not geeky, disposition. He sort of reminded her of Eric Forman, except with glasses and a stethoscope.

“Jackie, thanks for waiting.”

She merely nodded. What was she going to do, leave? She was still in one of those paper-thin backless gowns. She couldn’t leave without flashing the hospital staff and in-patients, and she really wasn’t in the mood for streaking. More importantly, she wanted to know her test results. It was the only way she was going to get discharged from the hospital.

“So your test results came in this morning.” Dr Pearson sat down on the stool in front of the examination couch and cleared his throat. “Jackie, you have a heart arrhythmia known as Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome. It’s caused by an abnormal pathway in the heart, between the atria and the ventricles.”

She nodded slowly, not really understanding, and Dr Pearson smiled kindly.

“Basically, you have an irregular heartbeat,” he explained. “What makes your heart beat irregularly is electrical signals that travel down the heart’s pathway; they stimulate the ventricles to contract prematurely, not allowing for a proper pumping of you heart. This, in turn, decreases your cardiac output and consequently your blood pressure, which is what caused you to faint.

“Think of it like trying to make it from the top of the stairs to the bottom, and instead of going down the stairs in an orderly fashion, you skip the steps by falling down them. You still reach the bottom, but the more times you fall down, the more threatening it is to your health.”

Jackie swallowed tightly. “Can this irregular heartbeat cause a heart attack?”

Dr Pearson frowned thoughtfully. “Well, in a worst case scenario, an arrhythmia is more likely to cause blood clots or stroke. The lack of coordinated contraction of the upper chambers can lead to less forceful blood flow, and therefore some stagnation or pooling of blood within the heart.”

She looked at him oddly, uncomprehending, and he fastened on that easy smile again.

“The short answer is no. But it can cause other complications the more you experience the arrhythmia. Less attacks, less health concerns.”

“But is it life-threatening?”

He placed the clipboard on his knee. “All arrhythmias have the potential to become life-threatening over time, but sudden cardiac death is rare with Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome. It’s more of an inconvenience, really. You’ll often feel tired or light-headed, especially if you over-exert yourself.”

Jackie bit the inside of her cheek. Okay, so no running marathons anytime soon.

“I must warn you that an arrhythmia like this can makes certain things difficult for you, health-wise,” Dr Pearson added.

“Like what?”

“Strenuous physical activity, like I already mentioned, especially if it’s something you’re not used to doing.”

“What else?”

The young doctor exhaled deeply. “I’m afraid it can complicate pregnancies. Generally, we do not encourage women with Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome to get pregnant. Not only will you most likely pass the same condition onto your child, but there is risk of stroke and even cardiac arrest. Your heart just can’t handle the stress of carrying another life.

“But, you’re young,” he said optimistically. “The earlier you try, the better. Once you reach your thirties, though, it becomes a high risk factor.”

Jackie nodded mutely. “So is that it?”

“Well, this is only a preliminary assessment. While it’s most likely that you just suffer from Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, it would be beneficial for you to have a more comprehensive test. I would recommend the OSU Medical Centre in Ohio. It’s the best cardio-vascular hospital in the north-east.

“In the meantime, you should regulate your health by observing your symptoms, such as dizziness, shortness of breath, rapid breathing, heart palpitations and, of course, fainting. Be careful of your stress level and blood pressure, as those are major triggers. You should cut out any alcohol and drug use altogether.”

“So you can’t give me a refill on my sleeping pill, then?”

Dr Pearson frowned apologetically. “Not now, I’m afraid. Not until your specialist in Wisconsin, or wherever you go, provides you with a detailed plan. However, I can still give you a refill of Percocet for your migraines. You can’t take Zomig because of your heart condition.”

Jackie nodded with a sigh. She’d take what she could get.

“And now you are officially discharged from the hospital,” Dr Pearson announced, as he signed a piece of paper on his clipboard and handed it to her. “Once I leave the room, the nurse will bring you your clothes and other personal items. I’m sending your medical files to your doctor in Point Place, as well as the hospital in Salem, in case you have any problems when you return to the resort.”

“Thank you.”

He stood up and offered Jackie his hand. “Take care of yourself, Jackie.”

“I’ll try.” She dropped his hand and he made to leave when she called out to him, “Dr Pearson?”

He turned around. “Yes?”

She swallowed hard, a dry audible click at the back of her throat. She wanted to ask him, in his professional opinion, if she was crazy for hearing a voice inside her head. Once a question like that was out in the open, she couldn’t take it back. It would confirming the worst without even receiving a diagnosis.

“Nothing.” She offered him a weak smile and waved it off. “I just wanted to thank you for everything.”

He eyed her sceptically for moment and looked about to speak, but then slowly nodded. He offered her another one of his kind smiles. “You’re welcome, Jackie. Take care.”

When he finally left the office, Jackie inhaled shakily and sagged back down on the exam table. The nurse entered shortly after and gave Jackie back her clothes and personal items that had been stored in her hospital room.

She got dressed in a daze, checking her pockets for her hotel key and cash. She found the key and enough cash for a taxi ride to the hotel and something to eat. As long as Chloe and the other didn’t steal her bus ticket, she’d be able to get back to Breitenbush in one piece.

Pulling on her boots, Jackie’s thoughts drifted into darker territories. Did she really want to go back to Wisconsin, to be coddled or handled like delicate china or treated like some sort of sideshow freak? She didn’t want anyone’s pity. She didn’t want people to have to tiptoe around her like they were walking on eggshells, but she didn’t want them to expect her to be someone she _used_ to be. She wasn’t Jackie Burkhart anymore, not mentally at least.

More than anything, Jackie was afraid. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was fearful for her health, physically and mentally. She could live in denial for now, but she’d have to get her answers eventually.

Why was it that the only choices that truly mattered in life were the ones she felt the least prepared to make?

Just as she was getting ready to leave, Jackie stopped mid-stride. She hadn’t realised she was crying until she reached up to brush away a stray hair and felt the hot tears against her palm. She glanced down at her hand in numb wonderment before wiping the tears away with a determined nod. She had to be strong. She _was_ strong. She was Ruby Tuesday, after all.

Taking in a deep breath, Jackie opened the door and left the doctor’s office. Now, more than ever, it was time for her to go home.

* * *

POINT PLACE HAD not known a May day this cold in decades. Frost formed on the windowpanes and whitened the roofs of the houses. It was like November.

The Tuesday morning glowed a hazy lemon light and the shadows were a delicate blue. Only a few short weeks ago the snow had melted and the warm weather had come out, but now a thin coat of ice crusted puddles filled the streets. It they were lucky, it’d all melt and return to its seasonable warmth by early afternoon.

Hyde shivered in the basement and threw on a sweater. May was supposed to be a warm and sunny month, the precursor to summer, not this windy, freezing-his-nuts-off sort of weather. It was like an omen.

Shrugging off the odd feeling, he grabbed his keys and threw a light jacket on over his sweater. He quietly exited his room, careful not wake Red. Mr Forman had been sick with a cold since last night and was taking the day off for some much-needed rest and recuperation. But a day-off and sick Red was even crankier than a healthy and working Red.

Hyde checked his pockets for his cigarettes as he opened the basement door, letting in a gust of cold air. Once he stepped outside, he noticed Fez sitting at the top of the stairs, bundled in a thick coat, mittens and a woolly hat with ear muffs on top.

Startled momentarily by the sight, Hyde locked the door and blew some warmth into his cold hands before stuffing them in his jeans pockets and ambling his way up the stairs.

“Hey, Fez.”

The foreigner stared blankly at Hyde but gave no sign that he had heard what was said. It was as if he was in a daze and hadn’t even noticed Hyde’s presence. So Hyde tried to capture Fez’s attention again, much louder this time.

“Fez!”

The foreigner jumped slightly in his seat, his eyes finally registering Hyde with recognition. He reached up and carefully removed his earmuffs with gloved hands.

“Ah, Hyde, just the man I was waiting for.”

“Why didn’t you just come inside, man?”

“The basement door was locked and Red does not like it when I traipse into his kitchen at all hours. He said if I interrupt his breakfast again, I’ll be wearing my ass for a hat.” He shook his head. “I do not want that. I like my ass where it is. Plus, I do not look as good in hats as you’d think.”

Hyde chortled. “Yeah, I hear that.”

Shivering, Hyde finally found his pack of cigarettes. He took out one and lit it as quickly as possible, thankful that Fez was blocking out most of the wind. He’d have to invest in some gloves for next winter; not the big bulky kind like Fez’s or Forman’s but something badass-looking. Maybe some leather ones that a biker would wear. It’d make it a hell of a lot easier to smoke and clean the snow and ice off his car.

“So what’s up?” he asked Fez, taking a slow drag of his cigarette.

“I heard Jackie is coming home.”

“Yeah, Forman’s driving out to Oregon to pick her up.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you going with him?”

He snorted. “I ain’t going anywhere. Someone’s gotta stay behind and take care of the store.”

“Why not Eric?”

“You have met Forman before, right? If I left the store in his care, it’d be decorated in Star Wars crap and filled with a wide selection of Styx and REO Speedwagon.” He made a face and then shook his head with a shrug. “Besides, Jackie wanted Forman to pick her up.”

Fez scoffed. “Oh, please. Jackie might not have her memories back, but you and I both know how a road trip with Jackie and Eric will turn out. One will end up burying the other’s body in a ditch somewhere, and then how will Jackie get home?”

Hyde grinned. “You’ve got a point there.”

“Of course I do!” he snapped, before softening his voice. “Look, Hyde, you should be the one to go. In an ideal situation, I would go get her, but for some foolish reason her amnesiac brain doesn’t care for me much.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hyde said, taking a long drag and exhaling. “It’s more like she doesn’t notice you exist.”

“Thank you, that sounds _so_ much better!” Fez glared at Hyde, who merely shrugged indifferently. “But you should be the one to bring her back, Hyde. You owe her.”

“Owe her?” His brow creased into an angry V. “I owe Jackie shit.”

“Really?”

He shifted uncomfortably under Fez’s gaze, but said nothing. What could he say? He knew he was the reason Jackie had torn out of the basement the way she had that fateful night. If he hadn’t closed off her last escape route, maybe she would have had the presence of mind not to go driving in the freezing rain. Hell, she might not have had a job interview to go to if he had waited for her to explain the situation between her and Kelso in Chicago, instead of fleeing the scene as quickly as possible.

“Okay, I didn’t want to have to say this,” Fez said, taking a deep breath, “but Jackie said no.”

Hyde’s brow wrinkled in a frown. “No, what?”

“When I asked her to marry me in February, she said no.” He swallowed thickly. “And I think it’s because she’s still in love with you.”

Hyde suddenly grew angry. “Why are you telling me this?”

He didn’t need to hear this shit, not now, not with how things were with Jackie’s memory. Knowing this now was just fruitless torture. It only made him feel worse. Why—why would she still be in love with him then, even after everything he had done to her?

“Because you need to know,” Fez said earnestly. “Jackie still loves you, even with no memories.” He sighed dramatically. “And you love her too, even if you won’t admit it to anyone, including yourself. But then why else would you sit with her in the hospital and hold her hand until she woke up?”

“Wha—how do you know that?”

Fez shook his head and smiled sadly. “Cause despite not remembering anything about her life, Jackie somehow remembers you. Just you. You’re her highway hypnosis. She always finds her way back home to you.”

Hyde blinked in surprise.

“But you, what’s your excuse?” Fez asked. “This is a clean slate for you, and yet you don’t take it. Why? What are you so afraid of?”

“Jackie,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat and nodded. “Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll go pick her up. Just stop your nagging.”

Fez’s face instantly lit up and he clapped his gloved hands with glee. “Good, good!” He paused thoughtfully before directing a stern gaze at Hyde. “One thing, though—you have to promise not to be your normal sonuvabitch self and hurt her.”

Hyde rolled his eyes, but Fez persisted.

“Promise me!”

“Yeah-yeah, I promise.”

“Pinky swear it.”

Fez took off his right mitten and held out his little finger to Hyde, who quickly slapped the foreigner’s hand away with a look of disgust.

“Get that the hell out of my face!”

Fez, however, was undeterred by Hyde’s abruptness. Instead, he slipped his hand back into his glove with a smile.

“You are such a good friend, Steven Hyde,” he said with a determined nod, before smiling sheepishly. “Now, be a good friend to me by giving me a ride to work. My car broke down in Red’s driveway.”

Hyde shook his head and shoved past Fez. “Yeah, sure, get in.”

“Yay!” Fez happily clapped his hands again and raced over to the El Camino.

Fishing his car keys out of his pocket, Hyde lingered in front of the driver’s door for a brief second. It seemed silly when he really thought about it, but he _was_ afraid of Jackie. He was afraid of a five-foot nothing, ninety-five pound girl who remembered nothing about him.

It wasn’t so much her lack of memories that frightened him but the idea that one day she’d get them back. Cause what then? They’d forge some semblance of a friendship only to have her remember every last horrible thing that had ever happened between them, every last betrayal, every heartache? He didn’t want to be there when that happened. He didn’t want to have to see the look of hurt in her eyes again.

But Fez was right, in a roundabout way. It was time for him to face his fears and be a man about it. He owed Jackie at least that.

* * *


	15. Against the Wind

_15 May 1980_   
_I-90 W_   
_30 miles outside of Bozeman, Montana_

 

HYDE CRUISED ALONG the I-90 W, doing somewhere between fifty and sixty miles an hour. The sun was climbing high in the sky and the black El Camino glittered in the light, the chrome winking at passers-by.

His window was cranked down all the way and the speakers were blaring Rush’s _The Spirit of Radio_. He scratched at his sparse beard before tapping out a beat on the wheel, content that he had finally managed to find a station in the whole damn state that wasn’t all country. Truth be told, he was partial to certain country singers, like Johnny Cash, BJ Thomas and Hank Williams Jr, but it’d be a cold day in hell before he’d ever let that information slip.

Speaking of cold, the state of Montana was clearly not. It was an unseasonably warm day; nice, but a little too hot for his liking. A dust storm had begun to roll down the highway and he rolled up his window. He was able to navigate through it easily enough, but the west wind was fierce. He was amazed by how much sand had already accumulated on the road and on his windshield in such a short span of time. It was as if the sand and wind were intent on burying the El Camino on the interstate.

He glanced down at the fuel gauge and saw that the needle was just shy of empty. He was still a ways away from the Bozeman turn-off, but he could have sworn he had seen a sign for a station not some fifteen miles back. He hunched over the wheel and squinted through the sandy windshield. After a minute, the wind finally let up and he could see the sign for the Texaco Station up ahead.

He turned right onto the tarmac and parked the truck beside the only available pump. Though the sign said full-service, the attendant was already busy with two other customers. Impatient, Hyde got out and shut the door, stretching his legs. He had been driving non-stop for hours. He’d have to find a place to eat and a motel soon, or at least find a rest-stop where he could take a leak without the worry of the wind blowing his own piss right back into his face.

The attendant waved to him and he gave a curt wave back, hollering that he could pump his own gas. The pump jockey seemed laid back enough and left Hyde to it.

Twisting off the fuel cap, he took the handle off the pump and stuck the nozzle inside the tank. As the gallons slowly ticked away, his gaze wandered south towards the small attendant station. There was a long bench outside, littered with tools. Propane tanks were propped against the wall and there were stands for tires and other miscellaneous road ware paraphernalia. Slapped against the pane glass was a sticker that read CHICAGO WHITE SOX and next to that was a white sticker with the word SUCKS scrawled across it in red.

_Chicago._

That place only held dark memories.

His chest tightened at the memory of Jackie standing in a motel room, looking shocked and doe-eyed, tugging down on that flimsy nightgown to cover her thighs, but inadvertently showing off her cleavage. It would have been a fond memory if there hadn’t been for Kelso showing up in nothing but a towel.

The whole encounter had blind-sided him, worse than the time he had caught the two in Donna’s living room and Kelso had only been resting his head on Jackie’s shoulder. It had been painful then, but the motel in Chicago—that had been mind-numbing, heart-stopping pain.

His grip tightened on the pump handle and he shook his head, as if this action alone could rid his mind of the memory. A bubble of gas sloshed out and spilled onto his hand and he let go of the handle, cursing silently. Shaking off the excess, he wiped his wet hand on his jeans and placed the handle back on the pump. He fished a ten out of his pocket and handed it to the attendant, who had already washed off his grimy windshield.

Hyde got back into the El Camino and started it up, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. He breathed deeply, in and out. He thought he was done with all this Jackie and Kelso bullshit. Running off to Vegas to drink and whore away his feelings hadn’t helped. Punching Kelso in the Forman’s living room hadn’t helped. Letting Sam stay certainly hadn’t helped. Jackie slamming into a tree and losing her memories sure as hell hadn’t helped a damn thing.

No, try as he might, that moment was forever seared onto Hyde’s brain like a brand. The pain had become a tattoo on his heart, and he had become as committed to the memory as it was to him.

Deciding to ignore it altogether, Hyde turned back onto the highway. He fished out his lighter and lit a cigarette, rolling down the window to let in some air. As he inhaled, feeling the smoke pool inside his lungs, his body began to relax.

It was time to go Zen.

A few more puffs and he clicked on the radio, hoping to lose his thoughts in a song. Bob Seger’s voice filled the speakers and he grimaced.

 

_And I remember what she said to me_   
_How she swore that it never would end_   
_I remember how she held me oh so tight_   
_Wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then_

  
He scrubbed his beard with a sigh. Christ, it just figured a song like this would come on now. It was like the cosmos was against him or something. It didn’t want him to forget. But he had to stop dwelling on the past. Chicago, Jackie and Kelso—none of that shit really mattered anymore. What pride did he need to safeguard now that Jackie didn’t even remember him? Who was he really trying to protect?

As easy as it was for him to see his own pain, he had yet to redirect any of that sympathy to Jackie. This new Jackie, who hadn’t done a thing to him. She had no clue about their shared past. Of course convincing himself to do the right thing by her was easier said than done, which was ironic because before Chicago, before the nurse, he had always done the right thing when it came to Jackie. He didn’t even need to think about it; it was just instinctual.

However that old Hyde wasn’t dead just yet, even if he sometimes wanted to bury him in the past. For better or for worse, Jackie had always brought out Hyde’s vulnerable side, and a big part of him wanted to make things right with her. She didn’t deserve the brunt end of his temper. She never did.

Exhaling deeply, Hyde finally felt himself in control again. He didn’t know how, but he was going to make things right with Jackie. He’d pick her up from the resort and act as though nothing bad had ever happened between them—no messy break up, no Kelso in a towel, no fake marriage to a stripper. They’d start new. Fresh. Hell, maybe they could even try being friends.

Stranger things had happened.

 

_Against the wind_   
_I’m still runnin’ against the wind_   
_I’m older now but still runnin’_   
_Against the wind_

  
“Fuck you, Bob Seger.”

Hyde snapped off the radio with a scowl. He took one last long drag of his cigarette, flicking the butt out the window, before turning his focus back to the road.

Forgetting the pain of the past and moving on to new beginnings? Sure, yeah. It was easier said than done, man. But for once, at least he’d try.

At least he’d frigging try.

* * *

JACKIE WAVED HER fingers through the gauzy column of steam rising from her teacup, breaking it apart and swirling it into separate coils. A _National Geographic_ laid open in her lap, dog-eared at the last page she had read.

Lately she found that she could be easily distracted: jumping from one activity to the next or staring off into space when she should have been focussing elsewhere. The voice was still persisting, but most of the time she couldn’t make any sense of it. It was garbled background noise, and she was thankful for that.

Luckily she had found a way to mute it with reading. Getting lost in the world of books, fictional or otherwise, had provided Jackie with a semblance of sanity. The only other distraction available was drinking the voice away, but it was too early for that, and her mind was too restless.

Today was the day she was going back to Point Place.

She had expected Eric to arrive almost two hours ago, and she was becoming increasingly impatient. Yesterday when she had gone to the hospital in Salem for a check-up, Mrs Forman had called the resort to update her on Eric’s progress. When she got back, Penny had informed her that her friend would be at Breitenbush before eight in the morning the next day. It was now a quarter to ten and still no geek in sight.

The Kid must have got lost.

“Excuse me, is Jackie Burkhart here?”

Jackie instantly perked up in her seat at the mention of her name. She set the magazine down on the table and cocked her head to the side, straining to listen to whoever was in the next room. It was definitely a masculine voice speaking, but he didn’t sound like Eric. His voice was much higher pitched, while this voice was lower and gruffer.

“You mean Ruby?”

“Ruby? No, Jackie—Jackie Burkhart.”

Jackie pushed up from her chair and exited the library, making her way towards the reception area. Standing at the desk was Steven Hyde. He was dressed in a pair of dark denim jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt that seemed painted on. The bastard. His curly honey-brown hair was tousled and he looked to be growing a matching beard, which suited him a lot better than the porn ’stache. His trademark amber shades were clipped into the collar of his t-shirt, exposing his beautiful morning blue eyes for all the world to see.

 _The bastard_.

Hyde turned, and like magnets, the two were instinctively drawn to each other. Their eyes met and Hyde tapped his fist on the receptionist’s desk. “Never mind, I found her.”

He sauntered over and they met in the middle of the floor. Not so subtly, they looked each other over. Appraising.

Jackie spoke first, “Where’s Eric?”

“Hopefully not stocking my store with his crappy bands and making out with Donna in my office.” When she gave him a blank look, he hooked his thumbs into his belt and shrugged, looking away. “He had an appointment he couldn’t miss. School stuff.”

Jackie folded her arms beneath her breasts. Her stance wasn’t closed off, but it wasn’t exactly inviting either. “So _you_ came to pick me up instead?”

“Yeah, I drew the short straw.”

“Hmm, well that makes me feel loads special.”

He opened his mouth and then quickly closed it, twisting uncomfortably before sheepishly glancing down at his boots. “Sorry.”

Jackie blinked and lowered her arms to her sides. Admittedly, she was caught off guard by the apology, but she wasn’t about to show it. Instead, she quickly waved it off and walked past him.

“It’s cool,” she said. “You can make it up to me by carrying my luggage to the car.”

A few minutes later she had led him into her cabin. She had arrived at the resort with only one bag of luggage in possession and now she was leaving with three. Memory loss or not, she still loved to shop. She had also bought some gifts for the Formans, though she wasn’t sure Red would like his. It was an antique sterling silver 1918 USCE Taylor Compass she had found cheap at a flea market. If he didn’t like it, he could at least use it as a paper weight.

As Hyde was loading her stuff into the back of the El Camino, Penny and Chloe came outside to see her off. Mandy and Tiffany had left for Portland the day before, but it wasn’t like Jackie was going to miss them. Penny and Chloe, on the other hand, she had come to like.

Penny insisted on hugging her, which Jackie had reluctantly permitted. Then she waved goodbye to the two girls and slid into the passenger side of the El Camino with a sigh. She hated driving; she hated cars; she hated being stuck in confined places.

“Bye, Ruby!” Chloe hollered with a wave.

Jackie waved back with a faint smile and Hyde got in the truck, closing the door behind him. He glanced over at her and then at the girls and then back at Jackie again with a puzzled yet faintly amused expression on his face.

“What’s with everyone calling you Ruby?” She shrugged differently and he slipped on his shades with a scoff. “You ain’t callin’ yourself Ruby Tuesday, are you?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Nothing.” He turned over the ignition. “Just FYI—” he slung an arm over the back of her seat and backed the El Camino around so that he could drive out the long driveway “—I ain’t calling you Ruby.”

“That’s good to know.” She shifted in her seat. “Why do you even care, anyway? And another thing—doesn’t that make you a bit of a hypocrite? You make people call you Hyde when your name is Steven.”

“Yeah, but Hyde is actually part of my name, not something I made up or stole from a Rolling Stones’ song.”

Jackie harrumphed loudly, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re just jealous that you don’t have a surname like Tuesday.”

“Green with envy right now, doll. You have no idea.”

Hyde turned down the winding road and Jackie frowned slightly. Normally terms of endearment coming from men skeeved her out or rubbed her the wrong way, but coming from Hyde, they seemed natural. Now she felt uncomfortable for a totally different reason.

Taking one last look at Breitenbush, Jackie reached into her purse and took out her own set of aviators. Hers were silver and reflective. She had nicked them from a Navy pilot who had hit on her at a club in Portland a few weeks back. She wasn’t sure why she liked them so much at first, but seeing the aviators resting on Hyde’s face, she wondered if she took them because they reminded her of him.

Jackie’s frown deepened. No, she didn’t want to think about it. Instead, she turned towards the window and watched the scenery coast by.

The ride out of Breitenbush was relatively quiet, and neither said a word to the other for a while. The radio was playing low, all good songs, and she was slowly lulled to sleep. She woke up almost two hours later in Portland. Hyde had bought her a burger and fries and a bottle root beer. He quietly slipped back into the truck, trying not to wake her, but she was already wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Sorry, I would have asked you what you wanted, but you were dead to the world.”

“S’okay,” she said, stifling a yawn.

He threw a napkin on her lap before handing her the meal, which she took with thanks. She was starving and the food smelled great. Setting the burger and fries on the napkin, she took a sip of her soda first and smiled. He had already conveniently opened the bottle for her and placed a straw inside.

“Mmm, root beer. My favourite.” She happily digging into her burger next. He had got her mustard, no ketchup and extra dill pickles—just the way she liked it. “Thanks.”

He nodded, smiling a slightly dimpled smile, and then dug into his own burger.

The two ate in relative silence until Hyde turned the radio back on. Queen was playing _Crazy Little Thing Called Love_.

As Jackie happily chewed away, she started to think, and then she started to frown. How did he know exactly what she liked? Furthermore, how had she fallen asleep in the car with him? She had never fallen asleep whenever Penny drove her to Salem. She was always on high alert when in a vehicle with anyone. Was she that comfortable with him?

After using the washroom and stretching their legs, the two got back on the road heading north-west. The scenery was lovely; Jackie could spot Mount St Helens in the distance. When the neared the Washington state border, Hyde asked her if she wanted to go visit, but she declined, saying that she could see it another time. For now she’d just watch it from the road.

An hour of silence passed between them and she felt a migraine swell at the back of her head. She popped a few Percocets and leaned back in her seat, twisting around until she was comfortable. The pills took at least ten minutes to work, and by then her annoyance level had already peaked. She wasn’t quite sure why she was annoyed. All she knew was that the source of her irritation was Hyde.

“You lied,” she said quietly, turning her head towards the window. “There was no meeting that kept Eric from coming.”

At first she didn’t think he had heard her, or he wasn’t going to reply, but then he rolled his shoulders forward and grunted a sigh.

“Am I that obvious?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m just that good. Plus, you’re a bad liar. You have tells—you fidget and you can’t look me in the eye.”

“I have tells, huh?” He gave her an impish grin before turning his focus back on the road. “And how would you know them so well, _Ruby_?”

“Because you’ve lied to me before.”

His brow knitted in a frown. “When?”

“Before I left for Oregon. When I asked if we were friends, you said the only connection we had was through Michael and Donna.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_.” She tapped at the window distractedly. “We might not have been friends, but we obviously dated.”

He froze up instantly then; his shoulders tensed and his jaw locked. He tightly gripped the steering wheel and, after a long moment, his body finally relaxed. He spoke softly, “Who told you?”

“You did, just now.” Hyde snapped his head around so quickly that he must have given himself whiplash, but Jackie carefully concealed her smirk before shrugging. “I figured it out before I left.”

“You’re turning out to be quite the Detective Columbo,” he said with a shake of his head. His grin dropped from his lips as he paused, turning to look at her. “Wait, you didn’t find a Steven Box, did you?”

“Steven Box? What the hell is that?”

“It’s uh, a box where you, uh—you put crap in it that reminds you of things you did with your boyfriend.” He floundered a bit with his hands, before quickly adding, “You had one for Kelso.”

She wrinkled her nose with distaste. “That sounds mildly retarded. And, no, there was no Steven Box that I saw.”

“Ah, good... good.” He kept nodding his head, as if he was trying to convince himself. “So how did you figure it out?”

“Well, when I was first shown my room at Fez’s, it was all pink and there were all these cutesy stuffed animals and girly clothing of the latest fashion and then this—”

She lowered the zipper on her hooded jacket to reveal a black Led Zeppelin t-shit. Hyde did a double-take and swerved slightly towards the shoulder before cursing to himself and regaining control of the El Camino.

“My former self didn’t seem like the hard rock type,” she said dryly. “What with posters of Donnie Osmond and the Gibb brothers and the like on the walls. And the shirt’s not exactly my size. Plus you’re the only one out of the group who I’ve seen constantly sporting band tees, so...”

“Deductive reasoning at its finest,” he said with a little smile, and she couldn’t help but smile with him. “Was that all it took?”

“No, there were little things, like how you acted around me. You were the only one who went out of his way to avoid me without _actually_ avoiding me, if you know what I mean.” He hummed in agreement and she looked at him closely. “So I’m assuming the break-up was bad?”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes on the road, and finally he gave her a curt nod in reply.

“Who was at fault?”

“Me.”

“Really? Huh. Got sick of me, then?”

He shook his head. “No. Nah, it’s complicated and—”

“A long and complex story, I’m sure.” She cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Say no more. I don’t need to know the details. They won’t mean anything to me anyway.”

Hyde’s lips twisted into a frown.

“I’m sure I was partly to blame as well,” she said, turning back to the window. “It usually takes two to screw up a relationship, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. “So, are you okay with this? With me here and us being, I dunno—” he shrugged again “—friends or whatever?”

“Are you okay with it?” she countered with a raised eyebrow, before shrugging herself. “Yeah, sure, I’m fine with it. I don’t remember anything, so you don’t have to worry about me flinging the past in your face.”

“That’s good to know.”

She pointed a finger at him. “Just don’t go psycho stalker ex-boyfriend on me.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Jackie settled back in her seat and smiled genuinely for the first time all day. The annoyance she felt earlier had lifted, along with the migraine.

“So, _friend_ ,” she drawled, “when and where are we stopping for dinner? Because I’m still starving.”

* * *

THERE WERE A great many interesting and highly educational ways to reserve yourself a spot in prison, but getting pulled over for speeding with pot in your possession probably wasn’t one of the most original, or the brightest.

Hyde stared into the rear-view mirror, trying to catch a glimpse of the cop inside his cruiser. He was nervous, of that there was no doubt, but he had reason. They had just left Spokane and Jackie had lit up a joint in the El Camino like it was no big thing.

He had been too dumbstruck to say anything at first, or even ask where she had got it, because he certainly hadn’t brought his own stash. Instead, he just stared at her like he was witnessing an alien abduction—too crazy to be true. What was odder still was the fact that she didn’t even appear to be stoned.

In the past, Jackie had rarely participated in the Circle. When she did, she was usually giggly as hell, which was admittedly adorable. But this new Jackie took slow, deliberate drags with no coughing like a seasoned pothead. No giggles, no paranoia. She just stared vacantly out the window as the scenery passed them by. Fortunately, she had already thrown away the roach and spritzed the inside of the truck with some fruity perfume by the time he had even realised a cop car was behind them.

The cruiser was still a ways back, not on his ass or anything, but he couldn’t help but wonder what was up. He figured he might have been speeding—maybe his foot had become a little leaden as he watched Jackie toke on a reefer. Or worse, maybe the cop had noticed the smoke. Whatever the case, the cruiser had tailed them for a good minute before turning on its lights.

By now both vehicles were parked on the shoulder of the road. The blue flashers on the cruiser’s roof were silent. Hyde felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t a surprise that they had been pulled over, but it was surprising how irritatingly calm Jackie was right now. Was he that calm when he was stoned? He doubted it.

“Want me to look for the registration?” Jackie asked, casually stuffing the bag of weed down the back of her seat.

“What?”

He was looking in the outside mirror. Above the words CAUTION OBJECTS MAY BE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR he saw the dusty white driver’s door of the cruiser swing open. A blue khaki leg swung out. It was prodigious, as was the man it belonged to, who was no placing a Smokey Bear sort of hat on his head. He was obviously too tall to wear it inside the vehicle.

“The registration—want me to get it out?” Jackie repeated, and Hyde nodded distractedly.

“Yeah, sure.”

He turned back to the mirror. Christ, the cop looked the size of a linebacker.

As Jackie rummaged through the glove compartment, the approaching giant of an officer slowly made his way over. On his hip was a gun almost as big as the rest of him, but his hands were empty—no clipboard, no citation-book. Hyde didn’t like that. He didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t like it. Not once had he ever been pulled over by an empty-handed cop.

His heartbeat, already faster than normal, sped up a little more. His heart wasn’t pounding, at least not yet, but he sensed it could pound. That it could pound very easily and he could very well end up becoming as jittery and cotton-mouthed as Forman. He didn’t want that. Nobody wanted that.

Just as the officer stopped beside his window, the buckle of his belt level with Hyde’s eyes, Jackie had found the pink slip, along with a pack of gum. Hyde lifted his shades up onto his head while the cop raised one fist (to Hyde it looked the size of a canned ham) and made a cranking gesture.

He immediately complied and rolled the window all the way down. The cop then did a slow, smooth deep knee-bend and brought his huge face into Hyde’s field of vision. A band of shadow cast by the stiff brim of his trooper-style hat lay across his brow. His eyes were big and grey, direct but with no emotion in them. None that Hyde could read anyway.

He gave Hyde only a brief glance before looking over Jackie, then checking out the luggage in the cab and even the small space of floor behind the seats. There wasn’t much road-litter yet; they had only left Oregon earlier that morning.

The officer’s eyes moved back up front and narrowed on the pulled-out ashtray, looking for roaches. He sniffed the air for the lingering aroma of pot or hash but said nothing. Hyde hoped to hell that Jackie’s perfume (and smoking with the window down) had done the trick in masking the odour.

“Had the hammer down a bit, did you, son?” the cop asked, his voice deep but surprisingly pleasant.

“Yes, sir,” Hyde replied politely, remembering how he dealt with Red. “Sorry about that, officer.”

The cop just nodded. “Could I see your driver’s license and registration, please?”

“Sure.” He took his wallet out of his back pocket. After a second of searching, he pulled out his license and handed it over, along with the pink registration slip from Jackie.

The officer stared intently at Hyde’s license. “So you’re both from Wisconsin?” he asked, glancing up, and they both nodded. His grey eyes then focussed on Jackie. “Could I see some identification, Miss?”

She nodded, cool as a cucumber, and reached behind her seat for her purse. She pulled out her license and passed it to Hyde, who handed it to the officer. He took it and stared at it just intently as he had with Hyde’s, looking back and forth between the two of them for what seemed like a very long time.

“May I ask what you two are doing in Washington?”

“We’re just heading back from Portland. My friend Jackie, here, was staying at a resort. She’s afraid of flying, so I came all the way from Wisconsin to pick her up.”

He was babbling, he knew it, but he wasn’t sure he could stop. It was weird how cops could get you running off at the mouth like this, as if you had a dismembered body or a kidnapped kid in the trunk.

Normally in a situation like this, Hyde would go Zen and give clipped one-word responses. But this wasn’t his hometown let alone his home-state and Jackie’s cavalier attitude after smoking a joint in his car not some fifteen minutes ago was seriously damaging his calm. It was like waking up to the frigging Twilight Zone.

The cop said nothing at first, his face still an emotionless mask. “Could you turn on your lights, please?”

Hyde obeyed and the officer walked towards the front of the El Camino, moving very deliberately. He still had the registration and Hyde and Jackie’s licenses in his hand. When he reached the hood, he glanced down at the front of the vehicle and frowned. After a moment, he walked back to the driver’s side of the truck and handed Hyde back his registration and license, along with Jackie’s.

“Sir, I pulled you over because your left tail light is broken. Your front lights seem to be working fine, but you should get the rear one fixed as soon as possible.”

“Ah, shit! I didn’t know.” His irritation and dismay were real enough, but so was the relief beneath them. “I’ll pull into the nearest garage and get it fixed, officer.”

The cop merely nodded. He wasn’t looking at Hyde, though. His grey eyes were fixed on Jackie. “You two drive safely now, and enjoy Washington state.”

“We already are, officer,” Jackie said with a beaming smile, and the big trooper tipped his hat, giving the first and only semblance of emotion Hyde had seen since this back and forth began.

The burly officer then turned back to his cruiser while Hyde cranked up the window. Once the officer settled back into his vehicle, Hyde started up the El Camino and turned it back onto the road. His heart had finally settled in its cage and he calmly slid his shades back into place.

They cruised along the highway at the recommended speed limit. Even with the cop car travelling in the opposite direction, Hyde didn’t want to take any chances. He kept both hands on the wheel, at ten and two, while periodically checking the rear-view mirror.

Jackie, however, seemed far less apprehensive. Leaning back in her seat, she brought both feet up on the dash until Hyde gave her a scowl that suggested he didn’t want her boots scuffing up the interior of the El Camino.

“I’m surprised he didn’t give you a ticket,” she said after a while, and he finally let his shoulders relax.

“I’m surprised he was convinced you were with me voluntarily.”

She chortled softly, and he couldn’t help but grin. It was nice to hear her laugh again, even if it was short-lived. She was so different now—not better or worse, just different—and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

He used to know her voice, her inflections, the tone she used when she was excited, upset, annoyed or afraid. But this wasn’t the Jackie who used to follow him around like a lost puppy or the one he had begrudgingly fallen in love with, or rather told himself he had begrudgingly fallen in love with. He couldn’t treat her like the Jackie he used to know, but he couldn’t treat her like a stranger, either.

“So, I know we’re not supposed to talk about your memories or anything,” he said by way of conversation, “but _is_ there anything you do remember?”

Jackie, who had been examining her nails, shook her head. “Not really. I guess it’s more like certain things have remained inherent, like my fear of flying, my impeccable fashion sense or that no matter where I go, I have to make sure my hair is perfect.”

“Looks like you haven’t been maintaining the latter,” he said, motioning to her hair, and she shot him a scathing look.

“You lie.” She subconsciously touched her curls. “I know it’s perfect.”

Before he could retort, the El Camino began to sputter, and a few seconds later it stalled. Coasting it back over to the shoulder, Hyde pulled the truck into park with a grimace.

“Dammit!” He angrily thumped the wheel with the heel of his palm. “Great, just great!”

He glanced ahead for traffic and then again in the rear-view mirror. No one. Figured. This was just his luck.

“So what do we do now?” she asked, and he exhaled sharply before turning his head in her direction.

“Wanna take a look at it?”

“Me?”

“Sure, why not?” He opened his door and stepped outside onto the road, bending down so that they were eye-level. “C’mon, let’s see if any of your other skills are inherent.”

He walked to the front of the truck and she quickly stepped outside, slamming the passenger door shut. The gravel crunched beneath her boots as she joined him at the hood.

“Wait, are you saying I used to fix cars?”

“You knew how to make the El Camino purr,” he said with a grunt, releasing the latch and pulling up the hood before locking it into place.

Steam rose from the engine, coiling around his face and fogging up his shades. He slipped them up onto his head and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Though it was still a few hours before dusk, the heat of the sun was beating down on his neck and he pulled a bandana out of his back pocket, moping the sweat off his neck first before fiddling with the engine cap.

Man, May was a hot fucking month, and yet just last week it was freezing in Wisconsin. Stupid, messed up weather didn’t know whether it was winter, spring or summer.

“I’m not convinced.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Are you sure I just didn’t sabotage the El Camino in order to fix it and look cool?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he said distractedly, before offering her a shit-eating grin. “You were deviously brilliant like that.”

“Why thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He pointed under the hood. “Now let’s see if you can still work your magic on the old girl.”

She gave him a decidedly sceptical look before bending over and inspecting under the hood. After about ten minutes of ordering him around to get her the proper tools, she stood up and began cleaning her dirty face with a rag.

“I’ve got nothing,” she said, “other than you need to change your oil and get a new radiator cap.” She held up the small black cap. “This one’s cracked, and you’ve got a lot of sand in here. What did you do, drive through the Sahara?”

He simply shrugged in answer, and she carefully screwed the radiator cap back on.

“Other than what I’ve pointed out to you, there’s no structural reason as to why it isn’t running. I think your engine’s just overheated.”

“Well, I have been driving near non-stop for four days.”

“Plus it’s an old car... Truck? Is this a truck or a car?”

“Both, I think, although it’s technically a truck.”

She finished wiping her hands and threw the rag into Hyde’s toolbox. “Well, whatever it is, it won’t start again until it’s cooled down. Speaking of cooling down, I’m hot and dirty and it’s gonna be dark soon.”

Hyde glanced up at the lowering sun and grimaced. Dusk would reach them in an hour or two, maybe less. As much as he hated leaving his baby out on the side of the road, he had to get Jackie off the highway. No way in hell he was going to wait for a trucker or a pervert or, worse yet, some psycho to pull over and offer them a ride. He’d more than likely have to introduce his fists to their faces. But if worse came to worse, he had a knife on him and he wasn’t afraid to use it. He’d protect Jackie if need be.

“What now, boss?” she asked, shaking him from his thoughts.

“We walk.” He pointed ahead. “I saw a sign for rest-stop a few miles back, before we got stopped by the cop. It’s bound to have a gas station and, if we’re lucky, a garage. If not, then there’ll at least be a phone.”

“Smart.”

He tapped his temple. “Street smarts, doll.”

“You know, whenever someone says something like ‘I’m not book smart, I’m street smarts’, all I hear is ‘I’m not real smart, but I’m _imaginary_ smart’.”

He abruptly turned towards her, his mouth twisting reluctantly into a grin. Dammit, but she could still burn like a pro. He’d have to use that one on Forman or Kelso someday.

“Seems that smartass mouth of yours is inherent, too.”

Undaunted by his remark, Jackie flipped her hair off her shoulder with a grin. “You know you love it.”

“No comment.”

He grabbed his duffel bag from the El Camino, making sure he had his wallet on him. After locking both doors, he grabbed two of Jackie’s bags from the back, leaving the lighter one for the brunette.

“Let’s go.”

* * *


	16. Wild Horses

_16 May 1980_   
_The Davenport Hotel_   
_Spokane, Washington_

 

“HELLO?”

“Hey, Forman.”

“Hyde! Hey, man, how’s it going?”

“Fine, just reporting in like your mom asked. Where is she?”

“Uh, her and Red are having their, uh... _alone time_ right now.” Hyde could actually hear Forman shudder on the other end of the line, and he bit back a burn. “Or else she would have ripped the phone out of my hand by now.”

“Well, when they’re done—” he couldn’t help but snigger at his best friend’s whine of discomfort “—let ’em know that me and Jackie made it to Washington state in one piece.”

“Where are you, exactly?”

“At a hotel in Spokane.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line and Hyde wondered if they had been cut off, but then Forman’s voice crackled through. Hesitant.

“So how’s Jackie doing anyway? Is she a skiing vegan hippie now, or whatever those crazy West Coasters are into?”

“She’s fine, I guess.” Hyde shrugged. “Amnesia or not, I don’t think we’ll ever have to worry about Jackie becoming a hippie.”

“True, true. She doesn’t have the lack of hygiene for it or the tolerance for other people.” Forman chuckled at his own lame joke and then his tone became serious. “So, does she have _any_ of her memories back or what?”

“That would be a negative, unless she’s playing it really close to the chest.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Forman said, sounding genuine. “Was she disappointed that you were the one to pick her up instead of me?”

Hyde rubbed at his eyes underneath his shades and opted for a lie. “Nah, not really.”

“What? Jackie wasn’t all worried where The Kid was?” Forman’s feigned shock had reached a high decibel that made Hyde wince. “I thought I was her reason for living!”

“Yeah, well, apparently she also lives for drinking and tokin’ up.”

“That’s no excu—Wait, _what_? Jackie drinks and gets high now?”

“Yep.”

“I can’t believe it. Our little Jackie is a rebel burnout?”

“She _does_ have amnesia, Forman. So if you have a problem with her new outlook on life, you’re gonna have to take it up with her, man.”

“Oh, I will. I most definitely will.”

Hyde cracked a grin at Forman’s attempt at sounding threatening. It was like listening to a kitten hiss. He was about to say his goodbyes and hang up when Forman’s voice crackled through with a sense of urgency.

“Wait, don’t hang up yet! What are you guys doing tonight?”

“Me and Jackie?”

“No, Laverne and Shirley! Yeah, you an’ Jackie! What are you two crazy kids up to in the Pacific Northwest?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. But Donna’s gone off on some father-daughter bonding trip with Bob, Kelso’s still in Chicago, and Fez is on a date, which I’m convinced is with a bag of M&Ms, a porno mag and his hand. I seriously need someone to live vicariously through, man. Tell me you’re both planning on starting a bar fight or something.”

Hyde chuckled silently. “Naw, man, I’m too tired from driving all day and night. We’re going to bed,” he said, before thoughtfully amending, “in separate beds in separate rooms.”

“Had to make the last part all crystal clear-like, huh?”

He grunted. “I’ll call when we get closer to Wisconsin.”

“Okay. Take ’er easy, man.”

“You too.”

Hyde hung up the phone and set it back down on the nightstand with a sigh. He placed his hands on his knees and stood up from the bed, looking around for his jacket.

He and Jackie had walked a little over four miles to the rest-stop and called for a tow truck. They were picked up, along with the EL Camino, and taken to a garage in Spokane. After figuring out what was wrong with the El Camino—over-heated, needed an oil change, new radiator cap and a new filter for the carburettor—and how much it’d cost him (too damn much), they took a taxi to the nearest hotel.

They had booked two rooms at the Davenport, with the plan of picking up the El Camino and heading back east in the morning. It was a nice hotel, not some hole in the ground motel like he was used to. He had even agreed with Jackie when she said that the place could do with an extensive renovation, but then it’d be too swanky for him to afford.

She had offered to pay for both hotel rooms and the gas, mainly because he wouldn’t let her chip in to fix the El Camino. Eventually they came to an agreement that during the trip home she would pay for her own hotel room and food and chip in for gas when she could. Even then it didn’t sit well with him. However, Jackie was being all independent woman, like Donna, and Hyde wasn’t about to step on her toes or tell her what to do. He never did, except with Kelso.

Throwing on his jacket, Hyde grabbed his wallet off the nightstand and made his way over to the door that joined his room to Jackie’s. He was starving and figured she might have been too. Checking to make sure he had his hotel key on him, he knocked twice on the door before opening it.

“Hey, Jackie, did you want to get something to... eat?”

He paused mid-step to find the brunette seated lotus-style on the bed, surrounded by at least a half-dozen empty miniatures. She glanced up at his entrance, a bottle poised on her lips.

“Yeah, sure, I could do with some nachos,” she said, finishing off the miniature of vodka. “And maybe something else to drink. The mini-bar here sucks.”

“I can see that.” He also saw a Ziploc bag full of rolling papers, almost an ounce of weed, and at least six rolled joints. How the hell did she get a hold of so much pot? “Get dressed and we’ll check out the bar downstairs.”

“Dressed?” She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, knocking a few empty bottles onto the floor. “Is this place swanky or something? Do I need to dress up?”

“No, I just—no.” He resisted the urge to frown. She had her hair down in soft waves and was dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a pair of black combat books. She looked as hot as hell, but he still wasn’t used to her _not_ preening. “So you’re ready, then?”

She shoved her bag of goodies underneath her pillow and hopped off the bed. “Yup! Just lemme grab some cash.”

He slid his hands into his pockets and watched as she rummaged around in her purse. She had changed ever since her trip out West. Well, she had changed since the accident, but the time away seemed to have done her some good. She looked freer now, more at ease with herself; yet there was a maturity behind her eyes he had never seen before. She seemed older somehow.

What really threw him for a loop was seeing her not overtly care about her appearance. She still looked hot, no doubt, but she wasn’t striving for perfection. It was strange how the importance she used to attribute to herself in the past had kept her constantly in his thoughts, even when they weren’t together. It had been an annoyance at first, like a gnat buzzing in his ear for his attention, then it became an inconvenience. Before he knew it, she had grown on him like a fungus. Towards the end it wasn’t so much acceptance but _wanting_ her to be a part of his life.

_“Look, Kelso, I never felt this way about a girl before, okay? And that pretty much beats our third grade pact. And I’m sorry, but I want to be with her.”_

He forcefully shook off the thought.

Jackie might not have been pressing that self-importance on him or anyone else anymore, but she was still Jackie. Changed or not, amnesia or not, Jackie would always be a part of him. No matter what.

“Ready!” She stuffed a wad of bills into her front pocket and Hyde went to the door, opening it for her. She glanced up, issuing him a sly wink before stealing past him into the hallway. “If the bar sucks, can we bring the party up here?”

His right eyebrow almost disappeared into his hairline and he tried to shrug off his surprise. “I wouldn’t say no to a circle.”

She grinned then, and he couldn’t help but grin back.

This night was getting off to an interesting start. A drunk Jackie? A two-person circle? Maybe Forman would get his wish and the night would end in a bar fight. Although he wasn’t sure _who_ would start it.

* * *

THE BAR IN the lobby was dimly lit, just dark enough to hide the curling smoke in the air. It wasn’t exactly classy, but it was a step above most of the biker bars that he normally frequented back at Point Place. Although this place had only the one pool table, which was currently occupied by a small pack of teenagers.

Hyde lit a cigarette and took a drag, casually scanning the crowd. It was lightly packed—just enough room to move around but far from empty. The place itself was filled with a mix of customers, from hotel patrons to what looked to be Spokane denizens coming in off the streets. It was the rough locals mixed with the tourists. The old mixed with the young. A formal atmosphere with cliques sticking with their own.

Good. No trouble.

Jackie went over to the bar and asked the bartender for a menu. A moment later she ordered a large platter of nachos and several shots of bourbon before steering Hyde towards a booth at the back of the room. They didn’t have to wait long before a waitress brought over their drinks and he ordered a burger and fries for himself.

“Can you not smoke in front of me while I’m eating?” Jackie coughed, fanning the smoke away from her face. “In the car’s fine cause I can roll down the window, but not in closed spaces.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, butting out the cigarette in an ashtray. She was fine with smoking joints, but second-hand smoke was where she drew the line?

“S’okay.” She hooked her thumb in the direction of the billiards table. “Wanna play after we eat?”

“Sure. As long as the table’s free by then.”

It wasn’t.

When they finished their meal, Jackie ordered more shots. He was surprised that she hadn’t passed out already. He hadn’t known her to handle her alcohol well. She was so tiny. He had never seen her drink much, which was why it was a little disconcerting to watch her pack away the drinks like she had an iron stomach.

“Hey, what’s going on over there?”

She pointed across the room and he lifted his shades, following her finger. He spied three older gentlemen seated around an open table with what looked to be a set of cards and a pile of singles.

“Looks like they’re playing cards.”

“Hmm.” She stood up and leaned forward, squinting. “Poker.”

“You play?”

She sat back down. “One of the girls taught me at the resort. Sometimes Paul would invite me to play whenever I made the trip into Portland.”

“Paul?” He caught the hard edge to his own voice and lowered his shades with a wince. “Friend of yours from the resort?”

“Nah, he’s the owner of the Satyricon—a popular punk-rock club downtown.”

Punk-rock? Jackie Burkhart? The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk and he idly wondered if hell had recently frozen over or if she wasn’t amnesiac at all, just possessed.

“Did you wanna play?” he asked, and she instantly perked up.

“Do you think they’d let us join them?”

He pushed his plate aside and slid out of the booth, motioning for her to join him. “No harm in asking.”

She grinned lopsidedly at him and hopped out of her seat to follow him.

Boisterous laughter came from the other end of the room and they casually approached the table. All three men were dressed in cheap suits, their ties loosened and the top two buttons of their dress shirts undone. Tired after a long day, two of them looked to be in their mid to late forties, short and stocky with salt and pepper hair, while the third might have been in his early thirties, tall and loose-jointed with a long face.

“Hey, man.” Hyde stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets, offering the men a good-natured smile. “Do you mind if me and my friend here join you for a round?”

The suits glanced up and stared at him with varying expressions of scepticism, as if asking what a burnout loser wanted to play poker with them for. They murmured amongst themselves but didn’t change their positions. However, when Jackie stepped out from behind him, their countenances brightened considerably and they quickly nodded their ascent.

“Sure,” said long-face. “We’ll deal you in the next hand.”

They immediately made room for the teenagers at the table before going back to their game.

“Appreciate it, man.”

Hyde settled back and folded his arms across his chest, watching Jackie observe the game. Her expression was mostly deadpan, sprinkled with occasional open curiosity. The smoke from their cigarettes clung closely around them in the still air and he wrinkled his nose. It didn’t seem to annoy Jackie at this point, but he was itching to light up. However, he had promised her he wouldn’t smoke in front of her, except in the El Camino, and he was going to keep his word.

They ordered more drinks and, when the first hand was over, the rules of Texas hold ’em were explained. Hyde and Jackie then threw some bills into the pot and were dealt in. From that point on things got, well... interesting. It turned out that Jackie had one hell of a poker face.

No one had expected it, least of all Hyde. Self-admittedly, Jackie was a great liar, but he had never seen her so emotionless. It was like holding up a mirror. Correction: it was like looking at the reflection of what he _thought_ he was. But even he didn’t have the sort of emotional control Jackie was currently exhibiting, and with a great deal of liquor in her system to boot. Stone sober, she’d be one hell of a card shark.

The three suits didn’t seem nearly as impressed as Hyde. In fact, they were looking a mite sour at him and the little girl cleaning house without so much as batting an eyelash. The vein in long face’s forehead was swollen and scarlet. He was angry. No one liked getting hustled—even mild-mannered, cheaply dressed business men from the Pacific Northwest.

Though Hyde knew Jackie wasn’t working a con, he couldn’t be sure that these guys wouldn’t accuse them of that and start something. They had all been drinking. Words had been exchanged. There was the potential for ugly.

Hyde was fairly certain that he could take all three on at once in a fight if he had to, but he really didn’t want to get violent in front of Jackie. So with a measure of grace he didn’t even know he possessed, Hyde said his thanks to the three suits and let Jackie gather her money and escorted her from the friendly game before it turned _less_ than friendly.

“Thanks for the game, man.”

The men grumbled and watched as Jackie gathered less than half of her earnings, leaving the rest behind in the pot. At that magnanimous display of sportsmanship, the grumbling stopped and was replaced with good-natured smiles.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jackie said, finishing her drink with a wink. “It was fun.”

“Any time, darlin’,” one of the older men cooed.

Hyde rolled his eyes underneath his aviators. _Yeah, any time when she gives you most of your money back and you don’t have to see her again._

When they walked away from the table, he leaned in close and nudged her shoulder. “You were good back there.”

“I know.” She deliberately coiffed her hair with a smirk before pointing ahead with a stumble. “Hey, look! The table’s finally free.”

Hyde nodded and put his hand at the small of her back, guiding her towards the table. “Good thing, cause I think those suits back there were going to fleece us if you won another hand.”

“I’m too cute to be fleeced.”

Hyde silently chuckled at this and dropped his hand. He went about setting up the table while Jackie searched for the right pool cue. After she finally found the perfect length, or close enough, he introduced her to Eight-ball with chick rules, which meant she never had to call her shots. It was a good thing considering she was nowhere near as good at billiards as she was at poker. Still, she looked to be having fun, and so was he, if he had to admit, which was why he had put off hitting the head.

Unable to hold his bladder any longer, Hyde finally ducked out to the washroom and left Jackie at the table. He didn’t want to leave her alone for too long in case some sleazebag zeroed in on her. When he returned to the bar, he found that his concerns were well-founded: three guys around his age were already swarming around the brunette.

He considered charging over and marking his territory. Maybe show Jackie a few moves with the intent of letting these assholes know that she wasn’t free to be flirted with. But then Jackie _was_ free. She wasn’t his, and he had no right to horn in. Besides, it wasn’t like she was encouraging the flirting. She was too deep in the zone, taking a shot of JD and then making a shot. Cheating, then taking another drink.

It was a sight to behold.

Even though Jackie wasn’t giving these douchebags the goods, an odd thought popped into Hyde’s head: did she let this Paul guy get close? Did she allow him to flirt with her? Did she flirt back? Was he more than a friend? Did they have sex?

He paled with anger at the thought and balled his fists at his sides. If that asshole took advantage of her, he’d drive back to Portland just kick his ass all the way around the city. Right after he broke the wrist of the bold prick who had just put his hand on Jackie’s hip.

“Hey, sweet thing,” said a guy who looked too much like a sly blond version Kelso for comfort. “How do you like your eggs in the morning?”

“Unfertilised, thanks.” She politely pried his hand off her hip before going back to the table.

Hyde paused. She certainly handled herself well. No harm, no foul. But this douchebag obviously didn’t feel the same way, and he certainly didn’t know how to leave well enough alone.

“You don’t need to be such a bitch about it,” the guy groused, making to grab her arm, which she effortlessly shrugged off before shooting him an incredulous look.

“I don’t?”

“Yeah, I’m paying you a compliment, baby.”

“Well, I don’t need one from you.”

A strong wave of disgust washed over Hyde then as he witnessed this punk hit on Jackie and then disrespect her when she wasn’t having any from him. He suddenly had a sick desire to drop this blond Kelso look-alike like a sack of potatoes, but he refrained. Barely. It took all of his self-control, but he swallowed down his anger and calmly walked over and tapped the man on the shoulder.

“You’re gonna wanna leave right now,” he growled, his mouth contorted in an angry sneer.

“What?” The pretty-boy whipped his head around in shock. “You talkin’ to me?”

He was giving him a long, cautious look from head to toe, and Hyde just stood there, letting him. He felt composed; angry but composed. What happened now would happen, even if that meant cleaning this punk’s clock.

But the kid didn’t seem all that confrontational, what with his gaze breaking off from Hyde to dart glances at the two other patrons behind him. Hyde’s eyes subtly followed and he suddenly realised that pretty-boy here was checking to see if his friends would help him if the ’fro-haired white boy went berserk.

Hyde was the threat, not them.

His chest puffed out a little with undeserved pride at the thought, and he took another threatening step forward. “Leave. Now.”

The blond swallowed thickly and looked back at his friends, who silently shook their heads. He turned back to Hyde and lifted his hands in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t know she had a man. We’re cool, dude.”

“No, we’re really not.” Hyde stood stock still with his legs spread apart, arms crossed over his chest. Intimidating. Threatening. One not to be messed with. “Apologise to her and leave.”

The guy went quiet for a moment, humiliated but scared, and then he nodded. “Fine.” He turned to Jackie and muttered, “Sorry,” before bowling his way past her to the lobby. “I’m outta here.”

His friends followed shortly thereafter, and Hyde barely turned as he watched them go with narrowed eyes. After a moment, he let his arms fall to his sides and the stress slowly seeped from his body.

Potential ass-kicking averted: Hyde: 1; Douchebag: 0.

“You didn’t need to do that!” Jackie sniped, holding up her pool cue. “I can take care of myself.”

“I saw that.”

And he did. He now knew that had no right to get mad about her sex life—if she had one in Oregon or not. It was none of his business. She could sleep with whomever she wanted and he had no right punching guys who flirted with her or strangling the life out of any asshole who _thought_ he could mouth off at her and get away with it.

“Did you really?”

He gave a curt nod. “Yeah, I did. You’ve got quite the mouth on ya.” When she gave him a queer look, he cleared his throat. “But drunken assholes don’t always respond well to pretty girls turning them down, no matter how witty their burns are.”

A radiant smile suddenly lit up her face. “You think I’m pretty?”

“What?”

“You think I’m pretty,” she repeated, and then clapped her hands together. “You think I’m pretty! Yooooou like me!”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets with a scowl and mumbled, “Screw you.”

“Screw me?” she repeated incredulously, before raising her boot shin-level. “You take that back or I’ll kick you!”

Hyde stumbled backwards and took his hands out of his pockets, shooing her away. “Okay-okay! I take it back— _un_ screw you!”

Jackie lowered her foot and muttered something about shoving her foot up his ass next time. “Yeah, well, you still think I’m pretty,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You said so. I heard you.”

“Whatever.” He shrugged, trying his best not to smile, and motioned above with a jerk of his head. “So you ready to take this party upstairs?”

She set down her pool cue with a grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

HYDE PAID FOR their tab and the two went up to his room to have themselves a two-man circle. Well, it was more of a one-man, one-woman circle. They were unisex.

Now they were both sitting on the floor with their backs against the mattress, staring intently at the back of a twenty dollar bill.

“Look, there.” He pointed at the banknote and she leaned in close. “There’s some guy hiding behind one of the bushes, ready to make his move.”

She squinted. “You mean like that guy who shot from the grassy knoll?”

“Yeah, ’cept this is at the White House. It’s like someone getting ready to take out the president on his home turf.”

“Which president?”

“I dunno.” He flipped the note over. “Jackson, probably.”

“And so they drew a picture of the assassination attempt?”

“Yeah.”

She sniggered. “That’s crazy.” She handed him the blunt. “You’re crazy, but I like you.”

Hyde shot her a sour look before poking his tongue at the back of his teeth with a squint-eyed grin. He leaned back against the bed and let his head loll on the mattress before taking the last hit of the roach.

“There are lots of crazy—” he made air quotes “—theories out there, man. Like this whole second oil crisis thing going on. It’s all bunk. The government has other alternatives to fossil fuels, like this, what, this synthetic fuels thing they have set up. Even that’s a scam, man. Cars that run on plants. Cars that run on the sun. Y’know, it is possible, but they don’t want you to know that.”

“Oh yeah,” Jackie agreed, coughing until she was winded. “You know, I heard there was this car that runs on water.”

Hyde swivelled his head around and stared at her agape. “Man, you just read my mind. H-how did you do that?”

Jackie giggled. “I dunno. All I know is that this energy crisis has nothing to do with an oil shortage and everything to do with politics. And the government and the oil companies love it because they can jack up the prices and not be blamed for it. And they’re, like, keeping this water car a secret cause its existence undermines their regime.”

“Yes!” He sat up, pounding his fist on the floor. “Yeah, the government, man. It’s in cahoots with all the big businesses—keeping the rich _rich_ and the poor _poor_. They don’t want average Joe getting a car that runs on water cause then we wouldn’t have to pay for the oil, man. It’s all a big conspiracy.”

“I know, right?” She giggled again and then scooted closer to him, leaning her head back against the mattress. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too.”

She rolled her head to the side so that she could look at him. “I think the bar might be closed, though.”

“I saw a machine out in the lobby. Wants some chips and chocolate bars?”

“Mmm, yeah.” She rubbed her flat belly. “That’d be so good right now.”

“Okay, be right back.”

Hyde shifted to his feet and grabbed his wallet off the nightstand. A few minutes later, after pillaging the snack machine, he made it back to their floor. Juggling the bundle of food in his arms, he fished his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

“Hey, so I got you salt and vinegar chi—ps.” He stopped short inside the threshold. “Jackie?”

She was getting undressed. In his room. Right in front of him.

She toed off her boots first, kicking them away from the bed and then stumbling backwards. She swiftly regained her balance and began unbuttoning her jeans before realising that Hyde was standing in the doorway.

She glanced up, unperturbed. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he replied, smiling. “Please continue.”

“Ass,” she chuckled, before gesturing that he at least face away so that she could get undressed.

He obliged and turned around, shutting the door closed while she continued to shed her clothes. He silently looked away, a bundle of junk food weighing awkwardly in his arms, and idly wondered why she was getting undressed in his room in the first place. She knew he’d be coming right back, right?

A part of him told himself to just turn around and watch her—the stoned and drunken part of himself. It reasoned that he had seen her naked before, so it wasn’t like he was going to see anything new. But the rational remainder of his brain told him that this wasn’t the same. She wasn’t his girl. Hell, she wasn’t really herself now. Fortunately he was sober enough to listen to his rational side and opted to be a gentleman.

“All done,” she announced, and he turned on instinct.

She was standing in the middle of the room, wearing only her shirt—his shirt—and panties. Well, he assumed she was wearing panties since the shirt was long enough to skim past her upper thighs and hide the bits of her that needed to stay hidden if he wanted to keep his sanity intact. However, if she were to just bend over...

“Ah, not that I’m complaining, but why are you getting undressed in my room?”

“This is _your_ room?”

He nodded and walked over to the dresser, setting down the junk food. She followed his movements with wide and slightly glazed-over eyes.

“Oh.”

Had she forgot that they were in his room to begin with? Was she that stoned? Was _he_ that stoned?

There was a pause, and though it could have only lasted two or three seconds, it felt very long. It was certainly long enough for him to realise that something distressing and amazing was going on all at once.

He slowly walked over to her, his gaze travelling from the line of her legs all the way up to her face, to her parted lips and the sharp curve of her jaw. The sight alone almost stopped his heart.

The catlike tilt of her eyes zeroed on him in that moment and made him weak. His blood felt too high, his cheeks too hot. He knew perfectly well what these feelings signalled, and he resented them even as they held him captive.

“So—” he cleared his throat uncomfortably “—are we switching rooms for the night?”

“Or we could always share the same room.”

A sly smile curved on her lips and she clasped her hands behind her back, slowly sauntering over to where he stood. She deliberately placed one delicate bare foot in front of the other, forcing his gaze to return to her legs. Her fingers brushed over his clavicle before scooping into the collar of his shirt to tug gently and he allowed himself to be pulled towards her.

Her eyes were dark and hooded, flirtatious. Dangerous.

Hyde swallowed thickly and forced himself not to move or have a reaction of any kind. This was dangerous territory, not exactly uncharted. He had experienced her seduction before: cute, sexy and earnest, with a touch of insecurity. But there was no inhibition in her eyes right now. Not the sort of bashful teenage uncertainty he was used to. This was wanting and taking and not caring about the consequences.

But before he could tell her that they shouldn’t, her hand had slid from his collarbone to his chest and then travelled southwards past the flat planes of his stomach. Her small hand then jumped to his forearm, delicate fingers sliding down to barely wrap around the thickness of his wrist.

She tugged with a measure of strength he didn’t even know she possessed and he was yanked forward. Or maybe he was too half-baked to fight back, because she was easily tugging him with her towards the bed. Swinging him around, she pressed both hands to his chest and pushed him down onto the mattress.

“We used to date, right?” She threw herself beside him on the bed. “So what’s the harm in sharing a bed?”

Feebly, he tried to back away before hitting his head against the headboard. “Well, for one thing, you used to remember what sharing a bed with me was like.”

“You could always refresh my memory.”

Jackie waggled her eyebrows and giggled at her own lame joke before crawling over to him on her hands and knees. When she drunkenly straddled his stomach, he held his breath and she met his gaze with an intensity that caused him to look past her shoulder—looking anywhere but into her eyes.

“No,” he exhaled, “I don’t think that’d be a good idea, Jackie.”

Warm air fanned across his jaw as she lowered her lips to his ear. “Are you sure?”

Hyde went very still; goosebumps broke out in a fine layer across his skin. Jackie leaned into him, burying her head into the crook of his neck, and he balled his hands into fists at his sides to keep from reaching out to her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her body flush against his.

“Not when we’re both like this,” he said hoarsely. The tendons on his hands were standing out from the strain. “It ain’t right. I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“How can I have any regrets when I have no memories of you?” she whispered against his neck, and he shivered with each brush of her lips.

That was a very good point.

She repositioned her head so that he was forced to meet her gaze again. “You can help me make new memories. Good memories.”

He instantly hardened at the innuendo, at the huskiness of her tone. Right then he wanted nothing more than to take her, to have her naked and writhing beneath him as he thrust into her, spilling his release as she called out his name. But that was just a fantasy. The reality was that he could smell the alcohol and weed on her breath. Her eyes, though completely focussed on him as she spoke, were slightly glazed over. Her speech, soft and full of promise, was slightly slurred.

Yet despite knowing that this was wrong, Hyde felt something warm and hungry unfurl in the centre of his chest with each word she uttered. He remembered vividly the feeling of being with her, of wanting her and of having her. He wanted that again.

But then the hint of alcohol stung his nostrils again and he noted the sleepy droop to her eyes. He knew couldn’t have her, not like this. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair, to him or to her.

Swallowing past the sudden dryness of his throat, Hyde shifted on the mattress and forced himself to stop staring at her lips. He made his move and carefully flipped Jackie over onto her back before painfully pulling away and standing off the bed.

“How about a rain check, when we’re both sober?” He gently touched her cheek, pushing an errant lock of hair away from her eyes. “When you’re not so tired.”

Fatigue had settled into her features all at once then, and she exhaled sleepily with a faint nod and moan. She sunk down into the mattress and he chuckled silently at the sight. She made a mewling noise of protest as he helped her under the covers, tucking her in. He’d have to sleep in her bed tonight.

“So am I not pretty anymore?” she asked with an adorable pout, her eyelids reluctantly fluttering shut.

“Nah, you’re _always_ pretty,” he rasped, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Get some rest, doll.”

“G’night,” she breathed, closing her eyes.

He couldn’t resist smoothing her hair away from her face, sighing to himself as he watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

“G’night, doll.”

Hyde exhaled loudly and stood back. He should have headed outside for some cold air and a smoke, but the hardness in his jeans restricted his movement considerably, and he didn’t need some strangers seeing the line of his dick through his pants. They might get the wrong idea, or the right one.

So instead of getting some fresh air, he crossed into Jackie’s unused room and quickly got undressed, intent on relieving his frustration solo before he did something that night that he’d really regret.

* * *


	17. Closer to the Heart

_17 May 1980_  
_The Davenport Hotel_  
_Spokane, Washington_

 

JACKIE AWOKE WITH the sensation that something wasn’t quite right. She blinked repeatedly to clear her eyes, her fingers curling into her knotted hair with a grimace. She was acutely aware that she was hungover. Her vision was blurry, her mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and she had one hell of a headache.

She untangled her fingers from her hair and tried to sit up, but the pain in her head cautioned her to take her time. After a few more dry, with dry, clicking blinks, she attempted to propel herself upright again and winced at the sound of gentle knocking on the partitioned door.

“Jackie, you decent?”

She made a whining noise and the door creaked opened. Hyde peeked his head inside, seeing that she was still in bed but awake, and carefully stepped inside. When he saw that she was completely covered up with the comforter, his shoulders relaxed and he entered more freely into the room, holding out two cups of coffee.

“Mornin’.” He had his aviators off for once, and his morning blue eyes were winking in the morning light. “How’re you feeling?”

“Muh,” she muttered, snaking a hand out from underneath the covers to rub at her tired eyes. Why was it so bright in the room?

He set her coffee on the nightstand and took a seat on the chair at the table. It was then that Jackie noticed his hair was wet and slicked back, like he had just taken a shower. She frowned. He was already dressed and looked a hell of a lot more alert than she felt. What time was it anyway?

“You wanna get some breakfast before we check-out?” He took a sip of his coffee, and she fell back down onto the mattress.

“Buh.”

“Does that mean yes or no?”

Jackie whined petulantly in answer, covering her face with her thin arms. It was too damn bright. Her eyelids felt like sandpaper. Eventually, she sat up and glanced at the large alarm clock on the nightstand. It was twenty to eleven. They’d have to check-out soon. Could she shower that quickly?

“Why does the inside of my mouth tastes like vomit?” she asked, as she smacked her lips in distaste.

“Well, you did drink a lot of bourbon last night.”

“Bourbon?” She unhooked the plastic tab on the lid of her coffee and took a sip, washing the bitter taste of bile out of her mouth. “Ugh, right, I’m not supposed to drink.”

“What?”

“Nothin’.” She shook her head and dug the sleep out of eyes with a yawn. “I just shouldn’t drink that much, y’know, being as tiny as I am.” She blinked wide brown eyes at him and lightly shook her cup. “Was I fed coffee or something as a child?”

“Huh?”

“Coffee,” she repeated, taking another languid sip. “I read somewhere that it stunts your growth.”

“Right,” he drawled, holding up his own cup and frowning. “So no to breakfast, then?”

“I could try some toast—” she set down her drink with a grimace “—and half a bottle of Percocet.”

“Okay.” Hyde stood up with a grunt and walked back over to the door. “You wash up and I’ll grab us some food. Don’t forget your stuff is in the other room. I’ll leave the door open. Oh, and I extended our check-out time to 11:30.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

He briefly left the room, only to return with her duffel bag, which she retrieved her Percocet bottle from. The coffee cup he held before was replaced with a clear plastic cup filled with tap water. He handed it to her and she took it with a nod of thanks, swallowing back the pills.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he said.

Once he left, Jackie showered quickly, or as quickly as she could while still basking under the hot spray of water. She had just finished getting dressed when he returned to her room with breakfast. Pulling her damp hair into a messy bun, Jackie sat barefoot at the table, taking nibbling bites of the toast.

“I got you some gum,” he said, sliding a pack of Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit across the table.

She smiled. “Thanks.”

The two ate in silence, and Jackie was only able to eat the one slice of toast. Once done, she excused herself and went into the other room to pack her things. Luckily she hadn’t been that messy. She was done packing in minutes.

When she walked back into Hyde’s room, she was surprised to find him standing in front of the window. His aviators were back on and he was looking out over the city, his lips pursed in a frown.

“I’m all ready,” she announced.

She dragged in her two suitcases and set her duffel bag down on the unmade bed before fishing the pack of gum out of her pocket. She offered him a stick, which he took with thanks, and unwrapped her own piece. She popped it in her mouth and chewed with deliberation, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. She’d have to fill an empty Coke bottle with water to take along on the trip.

“So what happened last night?” she asked. “Things seem kinda _awkward_ between us right now.”

“Huh?” He turned away from the window and dug his hands into his pockets. “Nah, not awkward, just...” He paused, tilting his head inquisitively. “Are you saying you don’t remember last night?”

She shrugged. “I remember the beginning of it. We checked in, got something to eat in the bar downstairs, and then we, uh, played poker?”

“Yup.” A sly grin angled across his lips. “You cleaned house.”

She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “Everything after that is a lil hazy.” A look of unease flitted across Hyde’s face and her brow wrinkled. “We didn’t do anything together, did we? Like, _together_ -together?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Oh, okay. Cool. Not that I would have minded if we did something. I just prefer being awake for stuff like that.”

“Hey, I’d never—”

“I know, I know.” She waved a hand at him. “Well, I don’t _really_ know, but I get that vibe from you—a good one. I can trust you, I think.”

His right eyebrow quirked and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, that’s reassuring.”

Jackie smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I’m just feeling weird today.”

“No worries.” He picked up his own bag before grabbing her two suitcases. “You ready to hit the road?”

She looped the strap of her duffel bag over her shoulder and jumped up to her feet. “I call shot-gun!”

He chuckled. “Well, you sure as hell ain’t driving.”

* * *

A MID-AFTERNOON THUNDERSTORM had moved through the state an hour earlier, leaving raindrops like strung crystal beads on the windows of the El Camino. They had taken a taxi to the garage to pick up the truck and had been on the road ever since, stopping only once for lunch at a small rest-stop off the highway.

The music was playing low and Jackie had her head rested against the window, slipping in and out of sleep. Random thoughts popped into her head; most she shook off, but a few lingered, plaguing her mind with self-doubt. She was beginning to suspect that Hyde was keeping something from her; nothing malicious, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling.

Of course she had amnesia, so he was probably holding onto a lot of secrets, and some of them could be traumatic for her. It wasn’t like she could judge him since she was keeping secrets of her own. However, she was almost certain that the awkward silence that had settled between them was a result of something that had happened last night; something he was now keeping from her.

_Did I make a pass at him?_

**You know, talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.**

Jackie stiffened in her seat. It was that damn voice again. She eyed Hyde with her peripheral vision, but his attention was fixed on the road. He obviously hadn’t heard the voice. Was it in her head? Was she crazy?

 _Yeah, and the second sign is replying,_ she answered inside her head, deciding to tempt fate. _Might as well direct me to the nearest bedlam._

**Bedlam? Stop making up words!**

_You seriously can’t be this stupid._ I _couldn’t have been this stupid._

**Stupid? I’m brilliant. You’re the stupid one!**

_Wow, I felt the heat on that burn._

**Why does my outer voice insist on being such a sarcastic, opinionated jerk?**

_Why does my inner voice insist on being such a loud, obnoxious brat?_

**You know, you may be pretty and you may be me, sorta, but I don’t like you.**

_Feeling’s mutual, doll._

**Doll? Did you just call me ‘doll’? Oh God, you’re becoming more and more like him every day. Soon you’ll start wearing dirty band tees and aviators.**

_Why wait? I’m gonna start right now!_

**I hate you!**

“Yeah? I hate you, too!”

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and her hands were shaking so badly that she had to ball them into fists at her sides. Irrational anger coursed through her like venom bent on destruction. She had no idea why she was so upset, but before she could begin to rationalise it, she saw that Hyde was blatantly staring at her with a look of concern.

“You okay?”

“Yeah?” She blinked, nonplussed. Oh, wait—had she yelled that aloud? “Yeah, I think I was having a daydream, or I stroked off for a minute.”

“What was it about?” he pressed curiously.

“I don’t really remember,” she lied, and then felt guilty about lying. She supposed she could tell him half-truths. “It was really brief and weird, sorta like a daydream. I think I was talking to someone. Maybe it was a memory?”

Hyde frowned thoughtfully. “Well, whoever you were talking to, you clearly didn’t like ’em.”

“Yeah...” Jackie paused, feeling slightly uncomfortable. She really didn’t want to discuss this anymore, lest she slipped the fact that she talking to herself like a bona fide mental patient. “I must have been chatting with Kelso,” she said with a chuckle, and he looked at her funny. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged, keeping his gaze purposely fixed on the road. “Just weird hearing you call him Kelso.”

“That’s his name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I’m so used to you calling him _Michael_ ,” he said with a pitched, screechy voice.

She scowled at him. “Did I really sound like that?”

“Yeah... Well, maybe you sounded a bit more feminine,” he admitted with a slight smirk.

“Only a bit?” She folded her arms beneath her breasts with a scoff. “I have a feeling that’s your voice for all women.”

“Pretty much.”

She tried to shake off the grin inevitably creeping on her lips. “So is it too weird that I call him Kelso? Should I call him Michael instead?”

“Nah. Unless you want to,” he added hastily.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully and shook her head. “I’d rather not.”

“Cool.”

A few minutes later they pulled into a Mobil station hung with gaudy bunting. The signs out front read UNLEADED .79¢ and GOD BLESS AMERICA, and there was a boarded-up chip wagon with the sign OLE MISS CHIPS.

While Hyde pumped gas, Jackie got out of the truck to stretch her legs. A cool breeze wafted through the station and she shivered. With no shelter from tall buildings or trees, she was almost bowled over by the force of the wind. She wished she had brought her jacket with her as she wrapped her thin arms around herself for warmth.

She considered going back to the truck when she spotted a payphone off the side of the building and impulsively decided to give Penny and Chloe a call. She slipped between the blue divides and picked up the receiver. She punched in zero and then had to stop. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Swallowing back her panic, she cradled the receiver between her ear and shoulder, leaving both hands free. She grasped her right wrist with her left hand to hold it steady, or as steady as possible. Using her forefinger, she punched at the buttons with slow and horrible deliberation. A female operator came on the line, asking Jackie what number she wished to dial, and she was about to give the name of Breitenbush when Hyde waved at her from the truck.

She muttered a quick apology and turned her back to him so that he couldn’t see her hands shake as she hung up the phone. However, Hyde was already waiting inside the El Camino, so she brought her hands up to her face to inspect them. The trembling had subsided substantially, but her fingers still twitched. Frowning, she shoved them into her pockets and trotted over to the truck.

When she reached the El Camino, she wondered how she was going to open the door, but Hyde had already reached over and opened it for her. She sat inside and mumbled a thanks before using both hands to shut the door. Thankfully her hands had steadied out enough for her to pull the door shut.

“All set?” he asked, turning over the ignition.

“Yup.” She offered him a thin smile and threw on her jacket, stuffing her hands into the pockets.

Why did everything in her life always have to go wrong?

* * *

BY EARLY EVENING, grey clouds had begun to build up in the west, and by dark it had commenced thundering. The storm had managed to hold off for another hour and a half, and thankfully by then they had managed to locate a motel.

Jackie was already in bed asleep in the other room when Hyde stepped outside onto the balcony for a smoke. He watched the rain fall and listened to the wind talk. He tried not to think about last night and about what he and Jackie had almost done, but it played like a movie reel in his mind. He had learnt long ago that if your mind insisted on returning to a topic, no matter how you hard tried to divert it, it was best to let it return and run its course. Only obsessives worried about obsession.

So Hyde let his mind wander, inevitably drifting back to thoughts of Jackie. A part of him was disgusted with himself for letting things almost get out of hand, and for refusing to tell her about it the next day, but a bigger part of himself knew that it was best to drop it. Leave it alone. She didn’t need to be reminded or embarrassed by a moment of drunken inhibition. He was more worried about what her impression of him would be when all things were said and done—or rather what he hadn’t said or done.

Hyde didn’t like to lie; for one thing, he was horrible at it. Keeping silent was in his nature, but keeping truths wasn’t. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to say to Jackie. What should he tell her about their relationship? She had told him not to bother, but the guilt of passing the buck gnawed at his conscience.

The doctors had said to gradually reintroduce her to her past but not traumatise her, so that left out the last few months of their relationship. It wasn’t like he wanted to reveal every sordid detail, but he didn’t exactly feel right acting chummy with someone he had hurt so badly. Although, oddly enough, Hyde had found himself _wanting_ to become friends with Jackie.

There was no set dynamic to their relationship anymore, yet Hyde felt more or less at ease around Jackie now. He was less likely to do or say something that he’d later regret, and also less likely to be reminded of his sins of the past. He felt an undeserved sense of freedom around her, mixed with a sense of familiarity. In other words, it was complicated.

He had always found it an oddment that despite their vast catalogue of differences, it had been their similarities that had first drawn them together. Both of them had been abandoned by their parents; both were prideful and stubborn, refusing to show any chinks in their armour. Yet they were vulnerable in their own ways, and it was this vulnerability hidden beneath the surface that had compelled him to her, ever playing her reluctant knight in shining armour.

But this new Jackie—or Ruby, as she called herself—didn’t want or need a saviour. She could take care of herself. Yet Hyde couldn’t seem to help playing the hero, whether he wanted to or not. He saw the stiffness in her smiles, the sharp edges to her stares and the little bit of darkness lurking behind her eyes. She was alone and trying to be strong about it; however, unlike _his_ Jackie, Ruby could very well lose herself to that darkness, and he couldn’t have that.

Contrary to his original protests, Hyde really didn’t feel like quitting Jackie just yet. What that meant, he wasn’t exactly sure yet. What he did know was that she was hiding something from him. He had a feeling her little sojourn in Oregon wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Something had happened, and though it wasn’t in his nature to pry, he figured she’d let something slip eventually. But would he be able to do anything to help her?

Hyde flicked his spent cigarette onto the wet pavement with a grimace. He didn’t have the right to question what Jackie did or what she hid from him, but the niggling feeling at the back of his mind told him that something wasn’t quite right. Whatever she was keeping to herself was big, and he felt a strong desire to protect and shelter her, not unlike the feelings that had always been there hidden beneath the surface.

First thing was first: they were going to have to have a talk soon. Things couldn’t go on the way they were—or at least they couldn’t for him. He had to come clean about their past together, eventually. He just didn’t know where start. How could he tell her the things he had done to her? What could he say to make her understand what he had done when he didn’t even understand himself?

 _Have a talk?_ Hyde palmed his face with a sigh. God, he sounded like a girl, or worse: Forman.

* * *

IT RAINED STEADILY the rest of the trip home. The skies were a perpetual dismal grey, as if a portent of things to come. Just before they had stopped for lunch, the news on the radio announced the eruption of Mount St Helens. Over twenty people were dead, and the death-toll was still rising.

They greeted the news with shocked disbelief at first. They had almost gone there to visit, but Jackie had declined. She even had friends who lived and were visiting in Portland, which wasn’t that far from the mountain. After calling the resort from a rest-stop and finding out from Penny that they were okay, and giving her Mandy and Tiffany’s hotel number in Portland, the reality of the situation had finally sunk in.

She didn’t even know that Mount St Helens was still active.

The rest of the trip home was quiet, listening to the news until they were too depressed and had to find a station playing music. They had made excellent time, arriving in Point Place just after six that evening. Hyde pulled the El Camino into the Formans’ driveway and Jackie ran her damp palms up and down her jeaned-thighs, swallowing back her anxiety.

She shouldn’t have been nervous. She had been here before and she liked the Formans, but a part of her still wasn’t ready for this reunion. She had become anti-social as of late. Maybe it was road-trip fatigue or maybe she was just upset.

Hyde pulled the key out of the ignition and turned to look at her, giving her a brief nod of encouragement. “You ready?”

She nodded silently and got out of the truck.

Hyde was already out the door and had retrieved her bags from the back, handing her the duffel bag while he carried her two suitcases and his own bag. They had decided to enter through the basement first rather than lugging everything around the front or get yelled at by Red for trekking dirt through the kitchen.

Jackie made it down the stairs first, holding the door open for Hyde. She had expected to see Donna and Eric, but the basement was empty and the TV was turned off. Hyde set her things down on the floor and threw his bag on the sofa while she clutched at hers like it was her lifeline.

“They must be upstairs,” he muttered, and that was when she heard voices coming from above as the basement door opened.

“What’s with the wing-tips?” Eric asked Fez as he came down the stairs. “You’re welcoming Jackie home, not Nixon vacationing at the beach.”

“I’ll have you know that I have a date tonight!” the foreigner spat indignantly.

Donna snorted behind him. “Is the date with your hand?”

Eric’s choked laughter was cut off when he saw Jackie and Hyde standing in front of the sofa. “Jackie? Hyde?”

“Jackie!” Fez and Donna cried in unison, pushing Eric aside as they scrambled down the rest of the stairs to greet the brunette.

“My goddess has returned!” Fez threw his arms around Jackie’s neck, but Donna managed to shove him off and hugged the petite girl lightly.

“Jackie! We didn’t expect you to be home until later. _Someone_ didn’t call.” She shot Hyde a dirty look and he just shrugged. “C’mon upstairs—but not through the basement.”

“Why can’t I go up through the basement?”

Donna shared a look with Eric, who shrugged with a guilty tilt of his head.

Hyde smirked. “Mrs Forman has a surprise welcome-back party planned, doesn’t she?”

“You know my mom,” Eric said with a lift of his hands.

Jackie frowned. “A surprise?”

“Don’t worry,” Donna reassured her. “It’s just us and Eric’s parents.”

“Yeah, we figured you wouldn’t want people here you haven’t _re_ -met yet,” Eric said.

Jackie smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Kid.”

“You’re using it!” he squealed excitedly, looking back at Fez and Donna. “She’s using it!”

Donna just rolled her eyes and looped an arm through Jackie’s. “So you have to tell me all about your trip. What did you do? What’s a holistic retreat like?”

Jackie tried to field what questions she could as the blonde led her back outside with Hyde reluctantly trailing behind. When the three came in through the front door, Jackie noticed a welcome-back sign and Red seated at his green chair, watching the news.

He glanced up at Hyde with a scowl. “You didn’t call. Kitty’s been in a tizzy all day. She’s baked enough food to feed an army.”

“Sorry,” Hyde said. “We were making good time and I didn’t want to stop.”

Red grunted in reply and gave a cautious look at the kitchen door before pointing to Jackie and Hyde. “You two go wait outside. If you’re not _surprised_ , Kitty’ll be upset for the rest of the night.”

Jackie and Hyde quickly followed orders and went back outside to wait. They could hear Red yell and Kitty whooping and hollering. After a minute, everything was a hushed quiet. When they saw the lights click off and what sounded like Red clearing his throat in an annoyed fashion, Hyde opened the door and they stepped inside.

“Surprise!” everyone yelled, as Donna turned on the lights with a grin.

Eric and Fez were upstairs now, and there was a big cake set on the coffee table. Mrs Forman had popped some confetti with a tittering laugh while Red remained seated in his green chair, scowling petulantly at the noise.

“Ah, wow, thanks,” Jackie said, pointing up at the banner. “Nice touch.”

Kitty smiled and pulled the petite brunette into a hug. “We missed you, dear.”

“Thanks, Mrs Forman.” She closed her eyes and allowed herself to briefly enjoy the hug before pulling back. “Oh, I got you something.” She fished out a box and handed it to the older woman.

“You shouldn’t have,” Kitty said, opening the box to reveal a pair of gold loop earrings. She gasped. “Jackie, they’re beautiful!” She held an earring up to her ear before folding the brunette into another hug. “Thank you, dear.”

Jackie just nodded, almost shyly, before pulling out another box and handing it to Red. “I got you something too, Mr Forman.”

“Is it a pair of earrings?” he asked, suspiciously eyeing the small box. “Men should never be given gifts in small boxes, unless it’s a key to a car.”

“No, it’s not earrings, or the key to a car.” She grinned. “It’s really not that big of a deal. I found it at a flea market and I thought of you.”

Red raised a sceptical eyebrow at this but opened the box, revealing a 1918 USCE Taylor Compass.

“Hey now,” he said, sitting up with a little smile on his face. “My father had one of these—a USCE compass. He brought it back with him after the war. Marty lost it when we were kids.” Red fingered the compass almost lovingly before nodding. “Thank you, Jackie.”

She fidgeted slightly but smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“What about me?” Fez asked eagerly. “Do I get a present, too?”

Eric and Donna both nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I got you all something, but the stuff’s in my suitcase.” She went to go downstairs to retrieve them, but Kitty stopped her.

“Wait! You need to have a slice of cake first.”

Jackie relented, and they all sat down to some cake. They were currently stuffing their faces when pictures of the eruption came up on the news.

“Wow, that’s so unreal,” Donna said, licking some chocolate icing off her thumb. “I can’t believe a volcano erupted on this continent.”

“We almost went there before we left,” Hyde commented casually, and the blonde’s eyes bugged out.

“Really?”

Jackie nodded absently, transfixed by the television screen, and Hyde cleared his throat.

“Last we heard on the radio, it was thirty-six dead.”

“Forty now,” Red said gravely. “There was a crop-dusting plane that got hit.”

“Was it close at all to where your retreat was?” Donna asked Jackie, and she shook her head.

“No, but I have some friends who are staying in Portland, which is fairly close to the mountain.”

“Do you want to call them and make sure they’re okay?” Kitty asked, concern lacing her voice.

Jackie paused. “Well, I... Yeah, I should probably check in on them.”

She got up and made her way into the kitchen, fishing out the slip of paper with Mandy and Tiffany’s hotel number on it. Hyde came in behind her, heading to the fridge for a soda. She ignored him and reached for the receiver when her hands started to shake.

_Not again._

She considered waiting until he left to attempt to dial, but he still had his head in the fridge. Turning her back to him so he couldn’t see, she attempted to pick up the receiver only to knock it out of its cradle. She cursed softly to herself and grabbed a hold of the dangling phone with both hands, carefully slipping it back into its cradle with violently trembling hands.

“I forgot the number in my bag,” she muttered, crushing the slip of paper in her shaking hand.

She went back into the living room, feeling Hyde’s eyes upon her as she left. Only home a few minutes and already nothing was going her way.

* * *


End file.
